EXPERIENCES 


CONSTANCE   SCHACK  GRACIE 


EDITION  PE  LUXE 


/ 


Personal  Experiences 


in 


Life's  Journey 


by 

Constance  Schack  Gracie 


WASHINGTON 
1919 


PREFACE. 

This  book  was  finally  completed,  after  many  urgent 
requests  from  friends  at  diplomatic  and  other  dinners 
here  in  dear  old  Washington,  as  well  as  in  Newport  and 
New  York;  when  the  conversation  would  suggest  and 
draw  forth  apt  reminiscences  of  my  very  unusual  op- 
portunities during  visits  to  my  European  relatives.  On 
such  occasions  they  would  say:  "Now,  Mrs.  Gracie,  do 
write  a  book  and  put  that  in  it !" 


2023983 


DEDICATION. 

I  intended  dedicating  it  to  my  two  precious  daughters, 
but  my  eldest  was  taken  in  Paris,  France,  my  husband 
next,  and  now  my  fourth  baby,  grown  to  lovely  woman- 
hood— working  in  three  canteens  while  her  soldier  hus- 
band was  overseas.  She  often  waited  on  four  hundred 
soldiers  a  day  from  7:30  A.  M.  to  9:30  in  the  evening. 

Two  days  after  her  twenty-fourth  birthday,  the  last 
day  of  the  old  year,  her  life  was  completed  seiving  her 
country.  Bearing  a  child,  whose  little  soul  she  carried 
with  her,  safe  into  the  Heavenly  Life,  into  which  she 
ascended  in  a  glory  of  love.  "None  knew  her  but  to  love 
her,  none  named  her  but  to  praise." 

There  is  a  country  wheie  they  form  and  cast  one 
beautiful  vase,  then  they  break  the  mould,  that  there 
shall  not  be  a  duplicate.  And  so  I  regard  my  three. 

Each  was  unique  and  stood  out  apart  in  beauty  of  soul 
and  body,  and  they  will  never  be  reproduced !  Yet  I 
have  felt  blessed  among  women,  that  God  should  have 
deemed  me  worthy  to  lend  me  three  such  wonderful  be- 
ings as  my  noble  husband  Archibald,  the  hero  of  the 
Titanic  wreck ;  my  beautiful,  gifted,  useful  Constance- 
Ulee,  and  our  Angel  Edith,  my  beloved,  unselfish,  thought- 
ful wonder-child. 

He  has  taken  them  all  three  and  the  baby  safely  home 


6  Dedication 

to  develop  as  disembodied  spirits  in  the  Heavenly  Life, 
and  to  draw  us  nearer  to  that  world  to  which  our  faith 
and  hope  will  lead  us  into  life  everlasting! 

While  we  are  here  retained  to  have  the  privilege  of 
helping  others  in  their  sorrows  and  struggles,  that  they 
may  see  the  light  which  we  know  is  so  far  more  precious 
than  the  fleeting  light  which  goes  out  so  surely  in  this 
sweet  world  of  earth. 

Now,  this  edition  de  luxe  is  simply  for  my  kind  and 
lenient-hearted  friends. 

Theirs  Sincerely, 
CONSTANCE  ELISE  SCHACK  GRACIE. 


MY   MOTHER  ELIZABETH -MRS.   O.   W.   C.   SCHACK 


MY  DANISH  FATHER— O.  W.   C.   SCHACK 
Then   Ensign   from   Copenhagen. 


CHAPTER  I. 

One  evening  on  the  slippery,  freshly-washed  deck  of 
His  Majesty's  ship  in  Copenhagen,  a  young  ensign  fell 
and  broke  his  arm. 

The  Consul-General  to  New  York,  Henri  Braem,  sought 
the  young  man's  father,  the  King's  Counsellor  Etatsraad 
Gregors  Schack,  and  begged  that  the  gifted  young  officer 
(whose  personality  had  won  all  hearts)  be  permitted  to 
accompany  him  to  New  York,  during  the  period  of  his 
convalescence. 

Arriving  there  in  due  time,  and  in  accordance  with  the 
custom  of  those  times,  he  boarded  with  the  family  of 
Braems  as  did  also  William  Meyer,  the  uncle  of  J.  Von 
Lengerke  Meyer,  Secretary  of  War  during  Mr.  Theodore 
Roosevelt's  presidency.  Said  Mr.  William  Meyer  left 
this  nephew  in  late  years  upon  his  demise  the  bulk  of 
his  fortune,  as  well  as  a  small  legacy  to  my  own  eldest 
daughter  Constance-Ulie  Gracie,  his  god-child.  She 
who  gave  up  her  young  sweet  life  in  Paris  when  released 
from  an  out-of-order,  neglected  elevator.  A  doctor 
out  of  the  street  entering,  gave  her  a  strong  dose  of 
ether  just  twenty  minutes  before  the  Colonel  and  myself 
returned  home,  and  killed  her.  He  exonerated  himself, 
he  thought,  when  confessing  to  her  father  and  myself  that 
"he  did  what  he  could,  gave  her  ether  to  save  her  suffering 
pain,"  instead  of,  as  I  told  him,  plunging  her  into  a 
hot  bath  to  expand  the  compressed  parts,  some  ammonia 
to  revive  her,  and  brandy  to  strengthen  her,  when  she 
sighed  with  relief  after  being  released  by  our  butler, 
and  looked  down  upon  her  little  eight  year  old  sister 
who  was  sure  Constance-Ulee  was  to  live  and  be  herself 
again. 


w   ; 

V 


MISS   CONSTANCE-ULEE    GKACIE 


In   Life's   Journey  15 


CHAPTER  II. 

At  a  ball,  at  the  Countess  de  Dion's,  the  young  Danish 
ensign  met  my  gifted  mother,  Elizabeth  Inez  McCarty, 
named  by  my  English  grandmother  after  one  of  her  girl- 
hood friends.  She  herself  being  the  brilliant  daughter  of 
Admiral  Saunders  of  the  Royal  English  navy. 

Her  two  beautiful  twin  sisters,  she  told  me,  died  sud- 
denly of  smallpox  on  their  estate  in  St.  Johns,  Nova 
Scotia,  where  they  first  lived  after  leaving  England ;  and 
where  their  cousins,  the  St.  Johns,  still  live  in  that  resi- 
dence called  "The  Castle" — stone  walls  excluding  passers- 
by. 

On  my  "Vitrene"  table  are  the  miniatures  of  the 
admiral — my  great-grandfather  on  the  maternal  side — 
taken  at  40  years  of  age,  in  his  light  blue  velvet  uniform 
and  gilt  buttons,  lace-frills,  choker-tie,  collar,  wig,  etc.; 
also  the  miniature  of  his  sweet  and  smiling  wife. 

Her  cousins  then  being  Admiral  Nelson,  Admiral  Liv- 
ingston, and  Admiral  Dreyer  of  the  Danish  navy. 

The  fair  women  of  England  were  always  proud  to  unite 
with  the  noble  Danes,  and  my  own  lovely  mother  chose  a 
noble  Dane  in  the  late  Otto  Wilhelm  Christian  Schack. 

His  brave  and  gifted  brother  was  Sophus,  whose  paint- 
ings were  pronounced  ideal  and  won  celebrity.  He  oil- 
painted  an  excellent  bust  of  my  father,  as  midshipman, 
which  is  roughly  reproduced  as  frontispiece  of  this  book. 

In  his  day  Uncle  Sophus'  volume  on  "Physiognomy" 
was  translated  and  sold  in  three  countries — France, 
Germany  and  England — demonstrating  the  curious  attri- 
butes in  human  beings  of  the  animal  they  often  resemble 
in  their  faces  and  phrenological  developments. 

Sophus  became  a  great  general  at  the  time  of  the 


16  Personal  Experiences 

Schleswig  and  Holstein  war,  and  led  the  Danish  army 
against  Bismarck's  Prussian  horde. 

General  Sophus  Schack  fell,  pierced  with  32  minnie- 
balls.  He  was  carried  tenderly  from  the  field  to  his  resi- 
dence in  Copenhagen. 

His  Majesty,  King  Christian,  hastened  to  the  bedside 
to  thank  him  for  his  great  services,  and  he  died  in  the 
King's  arms.  All  this  is  printed  and  on  record,  as  also 
the  little  book  recording  our  Danish  Minister's  attendance 
later,  during  a  year's  period,  upon  Bismarck's  pleasure, 
to  receive  the  document  as  per  Bismarck's  promise  to  re- 
turn those  two  islands  filched  by  the  Hohenzollerns.  And 
at  the  close  of  the  year,  as  our  Danish  Minister  was 
ushered  into  his  presence  for  the  last  time  to  receive  said 
document,  Bismarck  deceitfully  smiled,  and  devoid  of  dig- 
nity and  honor  remarked  :  "I  promised  to  give  back  Schles- 
wig and  Holstein,  but  I  did  not  mean  it." 


SOPHUS    SCHACK,    GENERAL    IN    CHIEF    OF    DANISH    ARMY 


In   Life's   Journey  19 


CHAPTER  III. 

On  a  Saturday  morning  in  August,  at  a  summer  home, 
Elizabeth  Inez  McCarty  and  Otto  Wilhelm  Christian 
Schack  were  married,  with  a  happy  family  in  attendance, 
and  they  started  off  for  West  Point. 

A  wee,  bonnie  Lassie,  arrayed  in  her  evening  gown, 
fond  of  dancing  and  all  the  joys  of  life,  she  stood  between 
dances  with  one  of  the  admiring  young  officers,  and  as 
he  noticed  her  anxiously  gazing  away  from  him  around 
the  ballroom,  he  asked: 

"Pray,  whom  are  you  looking  for?" 

"For  my  husband,"  nonchalantly  responded  the  little 
girlish-looking  bride. 

"Your  what!"  exclaimed  he,  "And  when  were  you  mar- 
ried?" 

"This  morning,"  she  quietly  and  proudly  answered,  to 
the  amazed  and  incredulous  gaze  of  her  dancing  partner, 
introduced  by  the  commandant's  wife. 

She  returned  to  New  York  with  her  husband,  who  took 
up  his  residence  in  a  house  where  in  later  years  was 
built  the  Ashland  Hotel,  corner  of  24th  street  and  Fourth 
avenue. 

Her  father,  whose  city  residence,  corner  of  Bond  street 
and  Broadway — then  the  most  fashionable  quarter — as 
printed  in  the  City  Directory  of  1834,  reads :  "Peter  Mc- 
Carty," and  his  son  "Saunders  McCarty,  gentlemen, 
landed  proprietors." 

They  were  spoken  of  as  two  of  the  then  40  New  Yorkers 
who  owned  their  horses  and  carriages.  Being  in  direct 
descent  from  the  King  of  Munster  and  Earls  of  Clancarty ; 
whose  Coat-of-Arms  in  a  quaint  little  gilt  circular  frame, 


20  Personal  Experiences 

hung  for  many  years  on  the  wall  of  my  room  at  the  right 
of  my  black  walnut  pier-glassed  wardrobe. 

We  had  the  engraved  picture  of  Blarney  Castle  on  the 
first  page  of  the  family  album,  and  my  uncle  Saunders 
(grandmamma  said)  forwarded  a  large  sum  of  money 
through  his  bankers  to  buy  back  the  castle  and  estate 
in  Ireland,  but  Lord  Dundlo,  of  the  older  branch,  held  it 
and  thus  it  passed. 

Uncle  Saunders  McCarty  had  six  beautiful  sisters.  He 
stepped  off  and  married  the  fair  Miss  Gardiner,  only  aunt 
of  Mrs.  Senator  Wetmore,  nee  Keteltas ;  she  greatly  re- 
sembles her  fair  aunt. 

After  their  children  were  born  (Uncle  Saunders  being 
the  oldest,  21  years  of  age,  and  my  mother  next  to  the 
youngest)  found  herself  when  a  wee  girl  playing  with 
her  tiny  nieces. 

In  later  years,  one  of  the  French  refugee  counts,  Count 
Jules  de  Dion,  won  their  mother — then  the  widow  of  my 
Uncle  Saunders — and  took  her,  and  her  two  daughters  to 
live  in  the  castle  at  Montford  (on  the  Seine  et  Oise 
rivers),  celebrated  for  its  rare  specimens  of  roses. 


COUNT   JULES    DeDION    OF    MONTFORT,    FRANCE 
Who   Married  My   Aunt   Mrs.   Saunders   McCarty. 


MY  AUNT  "JANE"  COUNTESS  DeDION 

Who   Came   Over  to   Take  Me   Back   With   Her  to  Live  at   Their   Castle  at 
Montfort    on    Seine    at    Oise    Rivers. 


In   Life's   Journey  25 


CHAPTER  IV. 

To  New  York,  from  Newburyport,  Mass.,  came  one  of 
its  clever  scions,  Jacob  Little,  one  of  the  oldest  families 
from  that  town.  His  sagacity  was  marvelous;  he  won 
the  title  of  "The  Greatest  Financier, — The  Emperor  of 
Wall  Street,"  where  his  honored  picture  hangs  in  the 
Board  Room  of  the  Brokers'  Stock  Exchange. 

A  while  ago,  when  I  was  down  town,  Mr.  Borland 
pointed  out  Uncle  Little's  picture  hanging  on  the  wall. 
He  carried  the  list  of  his  investments  and  their  respec- 
tive purchase  prices  and  values  on  no  paper,  but  simply 
in  his  mind.  He  made  and  lost  a  million  at  a  time  only 
to  make  another. 

Witty  and  loved  by  the  family  into  which  he  desired  to 
marry.  His  marrying  a  most  beautiful  young  lady  of 
lovely  chartcter,  took  place  in  Grace  Church,  on  a  certain 
date,  to  the  exquisite  Augusta  Temple  McCarty. 

He  drove  off  from  the  church  in  their  equipage  with 
liveried  men  on  the  box  and  standing  postilions  behind, 
admired  by  all ! 

She  used  to  call  forth  glances  of  friendly  admiration 
from  her  coterie  of  lovely  women  and  men  in  their  re- 
spective opera  boxes,  as  she  and  her  beautiful  sisters, 
Mrs.  0.  W.  C.  Schack  and  Mrs.  William  Jackson  (the  three 
McCarty s)  graced  her  box  at  the  time  when  they  heard 
Alboni,  Mario,  Brignoli,  and  other  great  stars  who  reigned 
upon  the  operatic  stage. 

Early  in  the  mornings  Mrs.  Schack  was  wont  to  play 
accompaniments  to  her  and  her  husband's  opera  duets 


26  In   Life's   Journey 

from  Traviata,  Lucia  and  Semeramide,  upon  their  Chick- 
ering  piano.  They  used  to  liken  my  father's  voice  to  the 
great  Marios,  whose  marvelous  tenor,  without  flaw,  fas- 
cinated all  souls. 

My  place  at  those  matutinal  practices,  as  soon  as  I  was 
four  years  old,  used  to  be  under  the  piano. 


BROTHER  RUDOLPH 

In   His   Athletic   Feat   Curved   Upward   in   Mid   Air,   With    Limbs   Attached 
Around    George    Montague's    Waist. 


In   Life's   Journey  29 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Howard  Pell,  senior,  who  was  at  Greensfarms, 
Conn,  (befoie  I  was  bo^n),  with  my  parents  and  my  two 
brotners  Rudolph  Wilhelm,  aged  four  years,  and  Albert, 
one  and  a  half  years  old,  delighted  (they  told  of  it  after 
years)  in  teaching  small  Rudolph  Wilhelm  to  swim.  After 
a  number  of  lessons  and  acrobatic  trials,  he  took  the 
youngster  by  the  back  of  the  belt  one  morning  and  flung 
him  far  out,  yelling  to  him :  "Now,  baby ;  swim  for  your 
life."  Arid  lo !  they  say,  the  boy  did  well !  I  was  a  good 
sized  child  of  ten  when  I  first  learned,  and  swam  easily 
in  a  fiesh  water  lake,  and  my  sister  learned  to  exactly 
imitate  the  motion  of  the  frogs  which  she  caught  in  her 
hands  along  the  edge  of  Lake  Luzerne,  N.  Y.,  where  for 
two  years  papa  had  a  cottage  with  a  path  going  part  way 
round  that  lake. 

My  pride  was  to  imitate  my  athletic  brothers  in  putting 
up  their  ten-pound  dumb-bells,  and  curling  my  arms  to 
please  and  to  develop  a  visible  muscle;  for  which,  when 
thirteen,  I  developed  a  modest  shame  for  possessing,  and 
only  on  the  sly  went  to  the  store-room,  lifting  a  trunk 
occasionally  to  test  my  strength. 

Every  Saturday,  it  was  our  wont  to  go  down  to  our 
grandparents'  honored  home,  east  of  Madison  Square  on 
25th  Street,  to  greet  them.  To  be  trotted  in  childhood 
days  on  grandpapa's  foot,  while  he  sang  to  me  pretty 
songs  in  Dutch,  and  he  told  me  that  his  grandmother  was 
a  Coeymans,  and  that  the  Queen  of  Holland  had  sent  the 
silver  communion  service  to  their  church  on  their  Coey- 
man's  estate  (ten  miles  square)  south  of  Albany,  which 
was  a  grant  of  land  to  the  family  by  the  king. 


30  Personal  Experiences 

I  recall  my  mother  telling  me  several  times,  when  hav- 
ing green-gages  and  egg-plums,  made  to  stand  in  jelly 
"pound  for  pound"  for  winter  Sunday  night  tea-parties : 
"Constance,  I  used  to  walk,  not  under  one  plum  tree,  but 
through  groves  of  plum-trees  on  my  grandfather's  estate 
up  at  Coeymans,  which  they  leased  out  on  99  year  leases. 
Grandfather  was  one  of  three  in  a  Tontine,  the  family 
rncied  that  he  would  die  first,  weighing  only  4i/2  pounds 
at  birth ;  but  notwithstanding  he  outlived  them  all,  dying 
at  the  age  of  84.  He  was  fine,  vigorous,  and  a  humorist, 
up  to  his  last  day  when  he  slept  away. 


MY   BROTHER  RUDOLPH   WILHELM   SCHACK 

Marvelous    Pianist,    Songster,    Humorist,    Caricaturist    and    Athlete.      Beloved 
by   All    Who    Knew    Him. 


In   Life's    Journey  33 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Peter  and  David  Coeymans  were  my  great-grandfather 
and  uncle  on  grandfather  McCarty's  side.  His  parents 
were  residing  in  France,  where  grandfather  was  born. 

His  daughter,  next  to  mamma,  a  lovely  beauty  as  I  re- 
garded her  when  old  enough  to  know  her,  had  engaged 
herself  to  the  superbly  handsome  William  Jackson  of 
Greenwich,  Connecticut. 

They  told  me,  in  the  family,  that  the  wedding  was  set 
for  two  weeks  later,  and,  out  for  a  promenade,  the  young 
couple  thought  it  clever  to  go  into  an  Episcopal  Church 
close  by,  and  they  were  married  then  and  there;  then 
returned  home  and  kept  silent  about  their  little  escapade, 
and  had  the  regularly  arranged  wedding,  all  right,  two 
weeks  later. 

After  two  years,  business  took  Mr.  Jackson  down  to 
New  Orleans.  It  chanced  to  be  at  carnival  time.  His  young 
wife  and  a  year  old  son  could  not  go  down  with  him.  He 
had  been  advised  by  his  business  friend's  hostess  to  use 
two  fancy  costumes  and  change  about. 

The  accounts  from  all  sides  were  that  some  young 
dame  in  Domino  spoke  to  him,  and  after  he  had  gone  up 
in  a  gentlemen's  dressing  room  and  was  changing  his 
costume,  a  man  evidently  jealous  of  an  imaginary  rival, 
stabbed  Mr.  Jackson  from  behind,  who  fell  without  a 
murmur,  dead. 

He  was  buried  down  there,  but  his  unhappy  young  wife 
begged  that  they  send  his  body  up  to  New  York,  and 
again  he  was  buried — twice  married,  twice  buried.  Then, 
sometimes,  I  used  to  just  wonder  if  such  a  thing  could 
come  to  pass  that  she  too,  my  witty,  pretty  aunt,  might 
ever  be  also  buried  twice. 


34  Personal  Experiences 

Well,  it  did  happen  all  the  same. 

When  she  passed  away  one  summer — after  a  sun  stroke 
I  think  it  was — her  son,  Charles  Augustus  Jackson,  a 
lawyer,  wanted  the  McCarty  family  vault  in  Greenwood 
Cemetery  opened  to  place  here  therein ;  but  the  Commit- 
tee in  charge  there  positively  refused  him,  saying  the 
vault  was  full  and  sealed !  So,  he  temporarily  placed  her 
in  a  vault  until  he  bought  and  had  one  built  for  himself, 
in  which  she  finally  rested. 

So  she,  too,  was  twice  buried ! 

My  aunts  were  great  European  travelers,  and  Mrs. 
Jacob  Little,  whose  husband  adored  her,  and  allowed  her 
every  indulgence,  permitted  her  to  attach  her  sister,  Mis. 
Willie  Jackson,  to  her  cortege,  and  with  Salvatori,  their 
courier,  all  was  made  easy. 

If  ought  was  overcharged,  Uncle  Little  would  briefly 
settle  the  query,  "What  yould  you  do?"  by  simply  saying, 
"Pay  him,  and  never  go  there  again." 

If  any  one  questioned  his  opinion  as  to  finances,  "What 
do  you  think  about  it,  Mr.  Little?"  quick  as  a  flash  he 
would  fire  the  question,  "What  do  you  think  about  it?" 
Unsuspecting  his  purpose  of  never  giving  his  own  opinion 
and  immediately  flattered  by  the  great  man's  honoring 
them  by  asking  theirs,  they  proceeded  to  expound  their 
theories  thereupon,  etc.,  and  when  they  again  turned  and 
asked  him,  "What  do  you  think?"  he'd  explain  mystify  - 
ingly,  "Oh!  that's  another  matter." 

They  had  to  laugh  at  his  clever  dismissal  of  the  subject. 
Often  he'd  cause  even  his  family  to  laugh  at  it — his  non- 
committal, tantalizing  responses,  always  the  same. 

When  Aunt's  (Augusta  Temple,  Mrs.  Little)  letters 
arrived  from  various  stations  in  Europe,  mamma  would 
allow  me  to  peruse  them,  and  their  descriptions  were  so 
vivid  that  I  memorized  them  and  later  felt  as  though  I 


In   Life's    Journey  35 

really  had  been  in  those  places  and  among  those  people 
myself.  So  that  after  making  my  "debut"  and  mingling 
with  voyagers  who  conversed  upon  their  travels,  they 
dilated  upon  them  to  an  eager  ear  on  my  part,  and,  saucy 
as  I  was,  I  chatted  on  as  though  I  too  knew  those  enchant- 
ing scenes,  always  entering  into  their  enthusiasm. 


MY  AUNT,   THE   BEAUTIFUL  MRS.   JACOB   LITTLE 
Born  Augusta  Temple  McCarty. 


In   Life's   Journey  39 


CHAPTER  VII. 

My  dear  splendid  grandmother  McCarty  had  badly  cut 
her  toe  which  became  infected  from  her  black  silk  stock- 
ing and  gangren  set  in.  Surgeons  insisted  that  the  foot 
must  be  amputated  to  save  her.  Bishop  Washburn  was 
sent  for  from  their  beloved  Calvary  Church,  and  after 
the  six  daughters  had  knelt,  encircling  her  bed,  in  earnest 
prayer  and  tears,  the  Bishop  left  them,  understanding  he 
might  be  needed  very  soon.  Later  friends  heard  him  re-, 
mark  that  he  had  never  seen  a  more  beautiful  death- 


ath-bed [ 
ther  in  I 


with  those  lovely  daughters  all  around  their  mother 
prayer. 

My  aunt,  Mrs.  Little,  closed  the  door  then  and  with 
her  usual  emphatic,  though  humorous  expression,  "The 
doctors  are  all  a  pack  of  fools.  I  am  going  down  to  our 
cook  to  make  a  hot  bread  and  milk  poultice."  Having 
T)rought  up  a  cup  of  the  mixture  and  continued  to  apply  it, 
lo !  the  gangren  drew  out  to  a  head,  burst,  separated,  and 
cleared  out.  The  foot  soon  healed  and  grandmamma  was. 
once  again  about  and  active. 

The  doctor,  then  the  bishop}  dropped  in  to  inquire,  most 
solemnly  saying:  "There  was  no  crepe  on  the  door,  why?" 
"Oh,  madame  is  perfectly  well  again,"  said  the  trusty 
maid,  and  beamingly  stated :  "It  was  funny  to  notice  how 
amazed  and  puzzled  they  both  looked !" 


ALBERT,    PRINCE    OF    WALES 

At    the    Time    of    His    Marriage    to    Our    Princess    Alexandra    of    Denmark. 
From  the  Album  of  My  Danis'    " 


Father  Otto  W.  C.  Schack. 


PRINCESS   ALEXANDRA   OF   DENMARK 

When  Affianced  to  Prince  Albert,  afterwards  succeeded  Queen  Victoria  as 
Queen  of  England,  Now  the  Dowager  Queen. 


In   Life's   Journey  45 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

My  Danish  father,  from  the  time  I  was  three  years  old, 
sent  me  with  my  two  big  brothers  each  Saturday,  to  be 
seated  close  to  the  stage  in  the  orchestra  chairs,  which  he 
exchanged  for  his  opera  box,  which  he  had  for  every  night 
and  Saturday  matinees.  Papa's  puipose  was  to  give  us 
a  true  conception  of  the  music,  the  Italian  language,  and 
a  correct  ear. 

By  the  time  I  was  six,  my  facility  for  catching  those 
arias,  and  reproducing  them  on  the  piano  with  both  hands, 
was  amusement  for  me. 

My  father  had  named  my  brothers  Rudolph  Wilhelm 
and  Albert,  after  the  King  of  Denmark  and  after  their 
beloved  Princess  Alexandra's  husband,  the  then  young 
Prince  of  Wales.  When  I  sat  beside  my  Danish  father's 
desk,  while  he  often  wrote  his  parents  and  sisters  in 
Copenhagen,  he  would  laughingly  turn  to  remark:  "Little 
Constance,  I  was  forgetting  a  word  in  my  own  language." 

My  brother  Albert  w^as  studying  instrumental  music 
with  a  Russian  pianist,  Mr.  Ricateau — as  I  also  did  when 
eleven  years  old — in  the  billiard  room  on  the  Chickering 
piano.  While  the  large  new  Steinway  Concert  Grand 
stood  in  our  large  drawing  room  for  musicales.  Oh !  but 
he  was  a  severe  master,  criticising  with  the  idea  that  it 
would  spur  us  on  to  merit  his  enconium. 

When  fifteen,  I  felt  far  advanced  and  proud  to  have  as 
my  teacher  the  first  violinist  and  leader  of  the  orchestra, 
Herr  Guppner,  who  taught  my  brothers  Rudolph,  Albert, 
and  myself,  the  piano,  thorough  base  and  motifs  of  both 
Italian  and  German  operas,  etc. ;  as  well  as  teaching  the 
violin  to  my  cousin,  Lieutenant  McCarty  Little,  later 


46  Personal  Experiences 

captain  in  the  U.  S.  navy  and  lecturer  in  the  naval  war 
college  until  five  years  ago,  when  taken  ill  while  his  son 
Lieutenant  McCarty-Little  was  on  the  White  House  staff 
during  President  Taft's  administration. 

Dear  Mrs.  Taft  had  invited  me  to  join  her  the  follow- 
ing afternoon  for  an  informal  tea  of  twenty  guests,  and 
then  (unconscious  of  my  cousin's  appointment  on 
the  social  staff  of  the  first  lady  of  the  land)  as  I  was 
ushered  in,  lo!  to  my  surprise,  there  stood  my  cousin  in 
full  dress  uniform  smiling  at  me.  His  father  died  after 
Mr.  Taft  sent  Louis  to  Pekin  to  study  the  Chinese  lan- 
guage, as  he  is  such  a  fluent  linguist. 

Louis  had  won  his  advanced  rank  when  inconceivably 
thin  and  tall,  and  when  the  gates  of  the  "Sacred  City" 
would  not  yield  in  answer  to  the  United  States  ships'  guns, 
Louis  offered  himself  to  crawl  under  the  hole  just  made, 
with  the  fuse,  I  think,  between  his  teeth.  Quick  as  a  cat, 
he  ignited  it!  He  said  he  went  up  four  feet  with  the 
concussion,  mentally  saying  farewell  to  earth;  but  the 
gates  blew  open,  and  he  saw  the  Chinese  (in  horror  at 
the  desecration  of  their  wall  destroyed  and  strangers 
entering  their  city)  committing  hari  kari  as  he  came 
down  again  on  terra  firma,  and  gazed  awe-struck  on  their 
awful  custom. 


In   Life's    Journey  47 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Aunt  Augusta  and  Willie  her  son-«r4aw  were  both 
beauties  of  their  respective  sexes — and  perfectly  devoted 
to  each  other.  His  mother  once  remarked  "that  should 
Willie  marry,  if  his  selection  were  an  angel  from  Heaven, 
she  would  be  jealous  of  her."  She  and  Aunt  Helen  fol- 
lowed his  navy  ship's  arrival  at  each  successive  port. 

Mr.  Tom  Meyer  used  to  bring  us  news  of  my  aunts 
abroad,  surprising  us  by  his  returns  from  Europe,  walk- 
ing into  our  opera  box,  stating  that  they  were  the  most 
extravagant  Americans  in  their  choice  of  apartments — 
no  idea  of  the  value  of  money — just  periodically  receiving 
checks  from  my  father,  the  manager  then  of  their  estate 
after  Uncle  Little's  death.  That  they  always  grati- 
fied their  wishes,  be  it  in  Cairo,  passing  the  shops  of  the 
court  jewelers,  seeing  them  beating  out  gold  into  coin 
necklesses  or  chains,  one  of  them  with  pendant  design, 
open-worked  solid-shaped  moon  and  crescent — their  na- 
tional emblems — when  she  would  exclaim :  "I  must  have 
it."  "But  it  is  for  the  Egyptian  monarch."  "Well,  make 
another!  We  are  leaving  Cairo  tonight!  The  price? 
Here !"  And  lo,  her  beauty  and  naive  persuasions  always 
conquered. 

I  possess  two  of  these  wonderful  chains  which  she  pre- 
sented me,  her  favorite  niece,  one  from  Egypt,  the  other 
from  Persia,  obtained  just  in  the  same  extraordinary  man- 
ner. 

My  lovely  Aunt  Charlotte  Amelia  Ten  Eyck  McCarty, 
in  whom  there  was  more  marked  Dutch  attractive  ex- 
pressions than  among  my  other  aunts,  her  sisters,  died 
suddenly  after  an  examination  requested  by  herself,  as 


48  Personal  Experiences 

she  had  never  known  an  illness  and  felt  as  though  from 
a  fall  she  had  displaced  her  internals.  The  physician 
they  considered  administered  the  ether  too  long,  after 
which  he  pronounced  the  examination  unnecessary  as 
nothing  was  wrong.  But  the  ether  had  (they  stated) 
devitalized  her  blood,  and  she  simply  faded  away  in  three 
months,  gently  inquiring  from  time  to  time:  "Why  do  I 
not  regain  my  strength?"  Her  devoted  chum  and  room- 
mate, Sister  Marie  Antoinette,  mourned  her  loss  so  deeply, 
exclaiming  that  "she  did  not  want  to  live  any  longer," 
retired  to  her  room,  took  to  the  bed  and  died  while  I  was 
in  Pau,  the  south  of  France,  visiting  my  mother's  people, 
Major  and  Mrs.  Charles  Hutton,  who,  with  Mrs.  Law- 
rence and  her  daughter  Lady  Vernon,  at  that  time  did 
most  of  the  entertaining  of  distinguished  English,  French 
and  United  States  visitors  to  Pau. 

The  Hutton  girls,  my  cousins,  known  as  great  "riders 
to  hounds,"  had  a  fine  stable  of  horses. 

As  my  mother  had  written  over  to  them  to  engage  the 
best  horse  for  me,  I  was  riding  "Lady  Jane,"  the  best 
jumper  of  all  of  "Pau's  hunters."  Lord  Hoathe,  then  the 
master  of  hounds,  rode  back  of  me  on  a  cross-country 
hunt  (as  all  the  horses  aheadof  me  had  refused  a  certain 
stone  fence),  he  requested  me:  "Miss  Schack,  let  your 
hunter  'Lady  Jane'  take  that  wall  and  all  the  others 
you'll  see  will  follow  easily  like  sheep." 

True  enough,  they  did.     It  was  exciting! 


MRS.    MAJOR    HUTTON,    OF    PAU    FRANCE 


In   Life's   Journey  51 


CHAPTER  X. 

On  another  occasion,  when  on  the  same  evening  of  a 
particular  day  to  which  I  shall  refer,  the  Baroness  de 
Longueuil  of  Pau,  was  giving  a  handsome  dinner  in  my 
honor  (''The  young  rich  American  niece  of  Mrs.  Hutton" 
they  told  me  I  was  called) ,  we  were  to  ride  twenty  miles  to 
hounds,  ten  miles  to  Tarbes  and  return. 

I  had  driven  a  high  pony-cart  early  that  morning  to 
the  dressmakers,  and  wearing  a  heavy  criss-cross  cord 
as  decoration  for  style  on  my  maroon  cloth  dress,  and  the 
brake  handle  standing  upward,  caught  in  that  cord  as  I 
was  descending.  It  held  me  in  mid-air,  and  then,  I 
crashed  on  my  chin  upon  the  pavement,  cracked  the  under- 
chin  bone,  which  the  modiste  bathed  with  hot  water. 

No  time  to  lose,  so  I  hurried  home,  donned  my  riding 
habit,  and  away  in  the  cortege,  flying  toward  Tarbes. 

On  our  reaching  the  hotel  for  luncheon  and  an  hour's 
rest,  I  heard  that  our  best  horse-woman,  and  the  most 
daring,  namely  Mrs.  Forbes-Morgan  nee  Ellie  Robinson 
of  New  York  City,  had  crashed  over  a  stone  wall  and 
badly  injured  her  face.  I  said  nothing  of  my  own  matuti- 
nal adventure,  but  felt  the  gradual  stiffening  of  my  lower 
jaw. 

Our  ten  homeward  miles'  ride  accomplished,  I  walked 
to  my  room  to  dress  for  the  dinner  party,  then  sent  the 
valet  over  to  the  Baroness  de  Longueuil :  "Could  she  par- 
don my  non-appearance,  as  I  had  had  the  morning's 
accident,  that  my  face  had  become  stiff,  the  flesh  was 
turning  yellow  and  green,  and  that  she  would,  I  knew, 
excuse  my  absence." 


THE  BAKONESSE  DE  LONGUEUI'L  OF  PAU,  FRANCE 

Now    Mme.    George    de    Tuite,    and    Mother    of    the    Young    Countess    de    Gallilet, 
My  Cousins. 


In   Life's    Journey  55 

Oh,  the  flattering  answer !  But,  holding  me  strictly  to 
"my  duty  as  honor  guest,  and  that  I  was  to  sing  after- 
wards and  electrify  the  guests  with  my  beautiful  songs." 

Well,  I  donned  my  loveliest  gown,  I  appeared,  stood 
beside  my  handsome  hostess,  received  the  twenty-four 
guests!  My  seat  was  directly  opposite  her  own,  at  a 
long  oval  table. 

I  had  tried  to  pry  my  teeth  open,  now  and  then,  to 
insert  a  bit  of  bread,  or  a  taste  of  this  or  that,  when  a 
voice  from  opposite  suddenly  startled  me  by  saying,  "Why 
Constance,  you  are  quite  disfigured.  Your  face  is  swell- 
ing as  I  look  at  you,  and  it  is  yellow  and  green,  poor 
girl." 

"Yes,"  I  mumbled  with  difficulty,  now  that  all  eyes 
were  turned  to  me  and  ears  cocked  attentive,  "I  felt  that 
it  was  necessary  for  me  to  come  tonight  in  order  that 
you  could  realize  my  plight." 

The  next  morning  Pau's  honored  physician  examined 
it  and  pronounced  me  "negligent  for  not  having  it  at- 
tended to  by  him  that  first  morning  and  that  now  it 
would  take  that  crack  five  years  to  knit  and  for  the  raised 
swelling  to  completely  disappear." 

Strangely  enough,  it  was  five  years  before  I  felt  no 
more  of  a  little  raised  line  under  my  chin  whenever  my 
thumb  passed  over  it. 

But,  ah!  that  was  a  famous  winter  in  Pau !  Many 
charming  residents  confided  to  me  a  fact,  that  no  one 
ever  declined  my  cousins',  the  Muttons',  dinner  parties  in 
their  "Villa  Biltiere." 

They  were  celebrated  for  one  dish  in  particular  which 
the  ground-hogs  of  France  root  for,  quietly  followed  by 
regular  men  who  go  forward  and  pick  out  of  the  earth, 
truffles,  which,  in  plenty,  the  Huttons  had  served,  stewed 


56  Personal  Experiences 

in  champagne!    A  toothsome  dish  for  one  of  their  delec- 
table courses! 

Their  son,  Harry  Hutton,  my  Fau  cousin,  a  general 
favorite  on  this  side  of  the  water  at  Tuxedo  and  Newport, 
as  well  as  over  there,  crossed  the  ocean  and  reached  New 
York  two  winters  ago — his  first  trip  since  he  was  at 
Columbia  College  under  Professor  Thatcher,  where  he 
found  difficulty  in  learning  his  studies  in  English,  where- 
as, a  most  adept  scholar  in  France,  and  in  the  language 
of  that  country. 

My  cousin  Harry  expressed  dismayed  surprise  at  his 
New  York  managers,  not  keeping  their  family  property 
in  downtown  New  York  in  perfect  condition,  when  he 
was  confronted  with  a  wise  response  from  my  sister,  that : 
"How  could  they  expect  them  to  keep  up  concentrating 
,  their  interest  so  much  on  the  property  of  those  who  never 
I  came  across  the  waters  to  concern  themselves  in  anything 
'•  except  unconcernedly  spending  everything  that  was  an- 
nually collected  and  sent  over  to  them  without  question?" 
.   It  was  amusing  to  note  his  ruminating  thoughts,  when  he 
remarked    before    taking    his    steamer    home,    that    he 
imagined  that  he  would  have  to  come  over  again,  as, 
with   his  charming  manner,   and   unconscious   habit  of 
washing  his  hands  with  invisible  soap  when  in  conversa- 
tion, he  bade  "good-bye"  and  away. 

His  charming  wife  (nee  Miss  Post  of  Pau)  was  await- 
ing his  return  across  the  Atlantic.  He  informed  us  that 
the  French  government  had  requisitioned  all  their  hunt- 
ers, and  carriages  and  horses,  save  two,  as  well  as  their 
motor  cars. 


In   Life's    Journey  57 


CHAPTER  XL 

My  father's  shell-like  finger  nails  of  his  quite  perfect 
hands  were  always  particularly  polished  by  himself  and 
never  by  a  manicure,  and  which  he  especially  perfected 
before  home  Sunday  school  for  my  big  brothers,  where  I 
was  permitted  the  privilege  of  sitting  with  him  and  recit- 
ing a  few  Bible  verses  and  listening  to  papa's  spiritual 
interpretation  of  the  New  Testament  and  its  hidden  par- 
ables. 

The  lesson  over,  he  would  lead  me  beside  him  to  church 
and  up  in  the  choir  where  he  sang  tenor  so  clear  and 
marvelously  inspiring. 

In  the  afternoons,  often,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chester  A. 
Arthur  would  come  to  our  house  and  sing  the  "Grace 
Church  Quartettes."  President  Arthur's  wife  had  a 
lovely  voice!  He  lost  her  before  he  entered  the  White 
House  as  the  Chief /ftFtrieTUnited  States,  and  lovely  Mrs. 
McElroy,  his  sister,  presided  for  him. 


58  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Mamma's  plans  were  all  completed  for  taking  me  on  to 
Washington,  when  Aunt  Antoinette  was  ill,  and  she 
allowed  me  to  ask  Mrs.  General  Pierson  (nee  Augusta 
Rhodes  of  Newport,  who  did  not  know  that  administra- 
tion) to  chaperone  me. 

Mamma  gave  me  her  personal  letter  to  deliver  to 
President  Arthur  and  to  Attorney  General  and  Mrs. 
Brewster.  Mis.  Pierson  took  another  young  girl,  to  keep 
her  company  she  said,  and  sight-seeing,  while  I  should  be 
occupied  with  pre-arranged  delightful  engagements. 

She  seemed  to  invest  me  with  something  above  the 
others  as,  while  in  the  dining  room,  a  uniformed  messen- 
ger from  the  White  House  would  be  led  to  my  chair  with 
a  note  from  the  President  or  Mrs.  McElroy,  and  stating 
that  his  gallant  secretary,  Mr.  Phillip's,  carriage  awaited 
me  to  go  to  the  blue-room  for  tea  with  the  President  and 
to  sing  "Faust,"  etc.,  for  him.  Then,  through  the  con- 
servatories, ladened  with  enchanting  scented  roses.  The 
carriage  then  conveyed  me  back. 

On  another  occasion  a  sort  of  White  House  picnic,  when 
Mrs.  McElroy  and  the  President's  young  daughter,  took 
me  up  on  the  second  floor  and  showed  me  their  wardrobes 
and  rooms  so  engagingly  furnished,  then  off  with  their 
brother  Allan,  on  top  of  his  coach-and-four  on  a  snow 
drive. 

Many  another  uniformed  messenger  from  Attorney 
General  and  Mrs.  Brewster,  who  gave  delightful  picnics, 
lunches,  etc.,  and  when  Senator  Miller's  ball  came  off, 
Mrs.  Brewster  brought  me  an  invitation.  My  beautiful 
fancy  costume  of  Euterpe  the  muse  of  music  was  expressed 
on  to  me  (which  I  had  for  the  great  Delmonico  ball  among 


In   Life's   Journey  59 


ba 

our  New  York  friends  that  winter)  with  its  key-picture 
in  real  gold  braid  with  cerulean  blue  braid  within  on 
creamy  white  English  barj^e;  angel  sleeves  caught  up 
with  a  jewel  on  each  shoulder,  and  my  gold  band  pliable 
belt  (which  I  have  in  safe  keeping),  a  lyre  of  crimson 
roses  and  gilt  strings,  appeared  for  me  to  carry.  So  with 
my  sandels  tied  securely,  I  descended  to  the  Secretary's 
carriage  to  heartily  thank  Mr.  Phillips  for  so  perfectly 
completing  my  costume  with  his  gift  of  the  lyre  of  roses. 
A  short  while  ago,  that  same  Miss  Miller  (for  whom  the 
Senator  and  Mrs.  Miller  gave  the  ball)  who  Is  now  Mrs. 
Admiral  Clover,  gave  the  wedding  and  reception  for  her 
lovely  young  daughter,  Beatrice,  in  Washington  ;  and,  as 
she  herself  sat  down  to  rest,  I  asked  her  while  chatting 
if  she  had  her  photograph  in  costume  from  that  ball,  and 
when  she  answered  "Yes,  indeed!"  I  said  that  "I  have 
mine  in  a  miniature,  standing  on  my  front  drawing-room 
table,  in  the  folding  case,  quite  as  natural  as  life." 


60  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

I  recall  a  ball  in  Paris,  where  Lady  Constance  and 
Lady  Napier  her  sister,  were  dancing  most  gracefully 
with  their  partners,  and  as  they  stepped  beside  me  I 
noticed  that  Lady  Constance  spoke  only  in  the  deaf  and 
dumb  language,  whereupon  I  began  to  speak  with  her  in 
the  mute  way,  and  inwardly  thanked  my  Danish  father 
for  one  day  in  the  past  bringing  in  a  pamphlet  of  the  mute 
language,  handing  it  to  us  children,  saying,  "Learn  it, 
children,  it  may  be  of  use  some  day  and  we'll  all  try  it 
together." 

So,  in  my  ambitious  spirit,  I  mastered  it,  and,  indeed, 
it  brought  me  good  luck  with  Lady  Constance's  influ- 
ential mamma  who  thanked  me  enthusiastically  for  being 
able  to  converse  and  brighten  the  days  of  her  sweet 
daughter  who,  when  I  asked  her  how  she  could  dance  so 
rythmically  in  step,  described  it  by  saying  that  the  vibra- 
tions came  to  her  through  her  feet  and  thus  up  through 
her  whole  body ;  so  that  is  one  of  God's  provisional  mys- 
teries and  marvels! 


In    Life's   Journey  61 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

My  father  used  to  have  beautiful  dinners -for  young 
men  whom  he  instructed  in  their  coming  initiations  into 
their  next  higher  degrees  in  Free  Masonry. 

How  proud  I  felt  to  see  him  so  tall  and  handsome,  with 
his  noble  carriage  and  bearing,  start  out  (after  trying 
on  his  black  silk  gown  and  mitre  as  "High  Priest  of  the 
Rosecrusian  Order  of  Knights  Templar,  and  Knight  of 
Jerusalem,  thirty-third  degree  attained")  on  certain  eve- 
nings to  be  driven  to  his  lodge. 

One  of  his  young  men  admirers  told  me  one  day  how 
my  father  was  wont  to  join  them  during  luncheon  hour 
in  Wall  Street,  and  instead  of  idle  conversation,  he  would 
instruct  them  for  their  next  initiation.  "That  he  him- 
self was  not,  but  that  Brother  Schack  was  a  perfectly 
pure  Mason." 


OTTO    WILHELM    CHRISTIAN    SCHACK 
In  Rose   Croix  High  Priest  Robes. 


In   Life's   Journey  65 


CHAPTER  XV. 

My  father  never  permitted  a  vulgar  eye  to  rest  upon  his 
beautiful  "Bessie"  as  he  called  her,  so  like  the  Danish 
ladies  of  his  order,  who  were  guarded  against  intrusive 
eyes. 

He  never  allowed  her  to  go  to  a  market,  but  took  me, 
a  ten-year-old,  to  market  with  him  every  morning,  be- 
fore he  returned  me  home ;  or  to  my  French  school  at 
Mine.  Don  Bernard's,  after  instructing  me  in  the  mys- 
teries of  marketing. 

The  cuts  of  meat,  only  the  pure  white  asparagus  like 
it  was  in  Denmark ;  and  when  Farrington,  the  favorite 
butcher  for  Madison  Square  patrons,  used  to  say,  "Mr. 
Schack,  you  won't  eat  this  green  asparagus  which  you  call 
'grass.'  Others  don't  appreciate  the  white  kind,  I  can't 
sell  it,  and  not  less  than  six  heads  will  the  Long  Island 
growers  take  for  an  order,  so  I'll  have  to  send  all  six  to 
you."  Papa  would  take  them  as  well  as  a  half  a  lamb,  at 
a  time,  to  hang  in  his  wine  cellar  to  grow  tender  enough 
to  cut  up  and  suit  his  epicurean  palate. 

Then  he  would  show  me  his  wine  cellar  treasures : 
Chateau  Lefitte,  Chateau  Margot,  Chateau  Larose, 
Mumm's  Extra  Dry,  and  Pomeret  Sec,  and  Heidsic  and 
Ruinard  Brut  Extra  Dry,  and  have  me  taste  the  "bouquet" 
as  he  designated  the  true  flavor  of  his  choice  claret.  In 
answer,  I'd  tell  him  that  "it  tasted  to  me  just  like  ink." 

He'd  catch  his  forefinger  with  his  quickly  raised  hand 
between  his  pearly  teeth  (it  being  against  his  thorough- 
bred ideas  to  laugh  aloud)  and  simply  beam  a  silent  laugh 
at  my  originality.  And  when  he  would  be  instructing  me 
in  astrology  or  anatomy  in  a  large  chart-book  spread  out 

^_-  7 


MI'SS   CONSTANCE    ELISE   SCHACK 
At    Ten    Years    of    Age.      "The    Ugly    Duckling. 


In   Life's   Journey  69 

on  his  dining  room  table,  oflr  phrenology  by  the  aid  of  a 
plastered  bust  on  every  bump  of  which  head  had  a  printed 
stripe  gummed  on  it,  indicating  our  various  propensities 
and  weaknesses  which  needed  either  developing  or  sup- 
pression through  our  given  knowledge  of  it  thereby,  he 
turned  and,  showing  his  very  deep  dimples  aside  of  his 
rich  sweeping  tan-colored  moustache,  exclaimed :  "Little 
green  fruit,  when  will  you  grow  up  and  be  my  comrade?" 
That  gave  me  an  early  ambition. 

One  admonition  of  his  made  a  great  impression  upon 
me.  He  told  us  all  that  the  way  to  advance  spiritually 
and  gain  a  lovely  expression  of  face  was  to  always  re- 
member when  correctly  to  turn  and  thank  our  parents 
and  to  reflect  upon  their  doing  so  because  they  were  train- 
ing us  to  become  as  free  from  faults  and  tricks  of  face 
and  form  as  possible.  And  to  make  a  point  of  never 
ridiculing  others  because  those  very  same  defects  might 
be  visited  on  ourselves,  and  never  to  lose  our  tempers,  so 
that  we  would  not  have  to  feel  sorry  afterwards. 

Really,  looking  back,  I  never  heard  my  father  and 
mother  say  a  cross  word  to  each  other,  nor  my  two  big 
brothers  either,  who  had  their  large  room  beyond  the 
long  row  of  intermediate  closets ;  where  I  could  hear  them 
lehearsing  Dockstater's  minstrels'  jokes,  etc.,  for  Christ- 
mas, family  and  other  entertainments. 

I  never  lost  my  temper  to  my  sweet  sister,  thinking 
that  I  was  setting  the  lovely  looking  girl  an  example. 
My !  but  I  was  proud  of  her,  and  was  told  by  Papa  that  I 
must  never  let  her  know  how  beautiful  she  was  "for  fear 
of  spoiling  her,"  he  said.  So  that  I,  seeing  how  proudly 
he  used  to  look  at  her,  fully  considered  myself  "the 
ugly  duckling."  But  without  knowing  the  slightest 
thought  of  jealousy  I'd  pray  God  to  show  me  how  to 
make  my  father  love  me  as  well  as  he  did  lovely  sister 


70  Personal  Experiences 

whose  name  "Augusta"  I  stoutly  took  up  to  please  her, 
and  started  the  servants  calling  her  "Miss  Augusta"  in- 
stead of  "Daisy,"  as  she  wanted  them  to  do. 

I  used  to  make  the  doll  clothes  for  her  various  dolls 
to  amuse  her,  so  fond  was  I  then  of  sewing;  and  how 
we  enjoyed  a  troop  of  Swiss  carved,  good-sized  wooden 
animals,  wonderfully  wrought  out,  and  sent  us  by  my 
"Fairy  Godmother"  as  I  dubbed  my  beautiful  aunt, 
Augusta  Temple,  Mrs.  Little. 


In   Life's   Journey  71 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

I  had  played  with  rare  coral  and  India  shells  in  guilded 
lacquered  boxes,  seated  at  my  grandmother's  feet,  often 
with  wonder  and  love,  gazing  up  into  her  clear  brown 
eyes  with  a  far  away  expression  in  them;  seated  in  her 
crimson  plush  high  backed  mahogany  chair,  as  she  told 
me  she  was  memorizing  Young's  "Night-Thoughts." 

I  recall  so  well,  during  the  week  I  was  allowed  to  spend 
at  her  handsome  house,  full  of  grand,  big,  solid  mahogany 
furniture  and  pineapple-carved  four-post  bedsteads  with 
their  satin  gathered  overhead  canopies  and  valances. 
Their  blue-fluted  plates  at  table,  pretty  custard  cups,  etc., 
from  India.  I  was  told  by  grandpapa  that  he  had  ordered 
them  to  be  made  in  India,  when  his  son  who  loved  to 
travel  and  had  plenty  to  do  so,  sailed  around  the  world! 

The  crest  was  on  each  piece  of  china  and  they  seemed 
to  have  a  whole  chest  full  of  dishes:  tall  jars,  plates,  plat- 
ters, fish  dishes,  gravy-boats,  etc.,  which  I  used  to  peer 
at  with  wondering  eyes. 

Now,  they  are  of  great  value,  and  in  the  family  division 
of  our  mother's  many  treasurers,  that  set  was  generously 
sent  me  by  my  sister  who  only  retained  a  few  platters, 
saying:  "With  her  own  exquisite  china  collections"  she 
did  not  need  them. 

I  wish  I  could  reproduce  a  lovely  picture  of  my  sister, 
with  her  little  head  shaved  after  scarlet  fever.  Shorn  of 
her  curls,  her  prettily  shaped  head  was  like  a  billiard  balL 
She  seemed  to  feel  mortified,  but  I  thought  she  certainly 
looked  the  cutest. 

At  ten  years  of  age,  I  was  sent  to  Madame  Don  Ber- 
nard's French  school,  where  not  a  word  of  English  was 


72  Personal  Experiences 

supposed  to  be  exchanged  between  the  scholars.  At 
home,  not  a  word  of  English  was  I  permitted  to  speak 
as  soon  as  we  were  seated  at  the  table  for  meals,  until 
we  arose  therefrom. 

Euphrasie,  the  fine  honest-hearted  young  French  nurse, 
came  for  me  each  day  at  school,  at  Madam  Don  Bernard's 
on  Madison  Avenue,  the  block  below  our  house. 

I  recall  some  one  saying:  "Little  girl,  if  you  want  to 
hear  a  lovely  singer  at  lunch-time,  I'll  take  you  into  the 
next  study  room,"  and  there  on  a  desk  among  admiring 
schoolmates  sat  a  tall  oval-faced,  slender-looking  pretty 
girl,  who  sang  with  a  lovely  contralto  voice.  And  the 
pretty  girl's  name  they  then  told  me  was  Ella  Flagg. 

Oddly  enough,  in  after  years,  we  met  in  New  York 
society,  to  become  great  friends.  She  was  married  to 
Mr.  George  de  Witt,  a  clever  and  popular  lawyer.  When 
I  married  and  left  all,  to  follow  my  husband,  she  became 
my  sister's  devoted  friend. 

It  was  so  nice  to  find  that  gradually  my  friends  became 
my  sister's  friends,  so  that  they  were  never  lost.  But 
when  I  could  go  back  to  New  York,  and  my  now  dead 
sister  would  give  a  beautiful  luncheon  and  a  handsome 
dinner  in  my  honor,  there  would  be  my  young  women  and 
men  friends,  just  as  whole-souled,  loyal  and  happy  in 
our  reunions  as  ever. 

After  my  sister  was  eight  years  old,  she  and  I  were 
taken  by  Euphrasie  to  "Mons.  et  Mme.  Prevost's  school," 
also  on  Madison  Avenue. 

Edgerton  Winthrop  had  closed  up  the  nice  light  open 
lots  opposite  by  building  a  house  for  himself  and  his 
brother-in-law — Mr.  Frederic  Bronson,  and  wife  (the 
perfectly  beautiful  Sara),  daughter  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Archibald  Gracie  King,  whose  own  country  residence 
was  at  Weehawken  across  the  Hudson  River  (in  a  feudal 


In   Life's   Journey  73 

looking  brown  stone  turreted  castle  it  appeared  to  my 
sister's  and  my  eyes), — so  each  evening  we  used  to  run 
to  the  top  of  our  Madison  Avenue  Block  at  the  34th  Street 
corner,  and  admiringly  watch  the  picture  of  the  setting 
sun.  Little  dreaming  that  in  after  years  I'd  marry  the 
cousin  of  our  opposite  neighbor,  Mrs.  Frederic  Brown- 
son,  born  Sara  Gracie,  now  married  to  Mr.  Adrian  Iselin, 
a  son  of  mamma's  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Adrian  Iselin, 
born  O'Donnell  of  Baltimore,  who  lived  in  our  favorite 
Madison  Square,  with  others,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Courtland  de 
Peyster  Field  nee  Hamersley,  and  Bishops  and  Abercrom- 
bies ;  beyond  on  23rd  Street  the  John  Rutgers  Marshalls, 
Wm.  Schermerhorn,  etc.,  etc.,  all  in  a  little  friendly  circle. 


74  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

All  through  our  growing  years,  Papa  had  taken  sum- 
mer cottages  for  two  years  often  at  a  time. 

At  Lake  Luzerne  beyond  Lake  George  ours  was  called 
"Hazelnut  Cottage"  because  of  its  grove  of  hazelnuts 
growing  around  our  lake-walk,  where  I  learned  to  swim 
in  its  clear,  lovely  waters,  and  my  little  sister  would 
catch  the  croaking  frogs  in  her  active  small  hands  and 
run  up  with  them  to  the  cook. 

Mrs.  Tiffany  Dyer  and  I  would  cull  the  hazelnuts. 
(She  lived  on  the  adjoining  place  where  her  handsome 
father,  Mons.  Labau,  much  beloved  by  my  father,  and 
her  mother,  born  a  Vanderbilt,  presided  among  the  older 
contingents.) 

She  and  I  would  climb  the  arms  of  the  big  pine 
trees  overhanging  the  lake,  armed  with  our  pails  of 
nuts,  a  paper  of  salt  and  two  stones. 

There  aloft,  we'd  crack  and  eat  the  toothsome  fresh 
green  nuts  in  salt,  and  watch  the  boats  of  young 
couples  and  older  people  start  out  for  a  row. 

My  little  sister  and  I,  stealthily  started  out  at  five 
o'clock  one  beautiful  morning  to  row  across  the  lake,  and 
gather  waterlilies  so  white  and  fragrant.  When,  start- 
ing to  row  back,  a  shower  quite  drenched  us,  and  at  our 
wharf,  there  stood  our  anxious  French  nurse,  frantic 
with  fear,  as  our  little  young  weakening  hands  and  arms 
plied  the  oars  to  reach  shore. 

She  did  not  worry  our  beautiful  mother  by  telling  her 
of  our  escapade  until  the  following  day,  which  was  most 
thoughtful  of  her;  but  we  children  felt  proud  of  those 


In   Life's   Journey  75 

lillies  when  they  graced'  the  center  of  our  parents'  dinner 
table  that  night. 

Another  year  at  our  summer  cottage  and  an  advertise- 
ment from  Patterson,  New  Jersey,  took  the  eye  of  my 
father.  It  read :  "Twenty-six  cherry  trees,  as  many  quarts 
of  strawberries  a  day,  and  vegetables  all  planted  in  the 
garden." 

It  proved,  however,  a  cherryless  year,  and  but  four 
quarts  of  strawberries  that  summer,  and  because  our  cook 
discovered  some  enormous  underground  sweet  potatoes  or 
yams,  and  used  some,  the  owner  sent  us  a  letter  of  indig- 
nation after  our  vacation.  Ha,  ha !  for  an  audacious  cheat 
he  was  great! 

There,  however,  in  the  Passaic  river,  down  at  the  foot 
of  a  steep  hill,  on  the  top  of  which  stood  our  house,  with 
lovely  paths,  I  ran  one  afternoon  to  greet  my  stunning 
looking  father  as  he  appeared  from  town  in  his  grey  silk 
alpacca  trousers,  vest,  coat  and  high  grey  beaver  hat  as 
they  wore  in  those  days. 

A  cry  from  way  down  below  arose  where  our  maids 
weie  bathing  in  the  river. 

"Katie  is  out  beyond  her  depth,  drowning!" 

Cane,  hat,  coat  and  vest  were  instantly  cast  off  by 
papa.  He  threw  himself  down  the  bank  in  a  rolling 
athletic  astounding  way,  and  into  the  water  he  fell  and 
plunged  after  Katie,  our  waitress,  and  saved  her  as  she 
was  sinking  into  a  quagmire  hole,  unknown  by  us  to  be 
there. 

How  I  did  adore  him ! 

My  birthday,  the  31st  of  August,  broke  bright  and 
clear  for  me  the  next  morning. 

I  found  papa  searching  in  the  garden  for  a  rose,  he 
had  watched  for  a  gift  to  me,  and  which  he  culled  and 


76  Personal  Experiences 

placed  in  my  hand,  saying,  "Here;  my  little  'last  rose  of 
summer.'  "  His  other  birthday  gift  did  not  produce  the 
thrill  which  his  rose  and  words  had  done. 

Oddly  enough,  in  Patterson,  N.  J.,  my  brother  Albert 
was  given  a  church  in  later  years,  after  he  took  his  min- 
isterial course. 


MY    BROTHER    ALBERT    P.    SCHACK 
At    His    Military    Academy. 


In   Life's   Journey  79 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Albert  and  I  were  always  very  religiously  inclined  and 
I,  with  my  Italian  at  my  tongue's  tip,  was  greatly  influ- 
enced in  my  enthusiasm  of  youth  to  join  the  Protestant 
sister-hood,  imagining  that  I  could  be  an  Italian  mother 
superior  irrespective  of  my  youth.  High  aims! 

All  this  was  through  a  girl  friend,  Manetta  Gardiner- 
Thompson,  god-child  of  Rev.  Dr.  Morgan  Dix,  rector  of 
grand  old  Trinity  Church,  Broadway,  facing  Wall  Street, ,' 
which  edifice  stands  an  everlasting  monument,  beckoning 
the  business  men  of  Wall  Street  to  daily  prayer  and  Godly 
worship  at  noontide. 

I  was  strong  in  my  idea  of  going  into  the  nunnery, 
knowing  absolutely  nothing  of  life,  when  one  day  I  felt  a 
hand  on  mine  and  beside  my  bed  my  exquisiternother, 
begging  me  "not  to  do  so,  that  it  would  shatter  jnylife." 
That  instant,  in  my  appreciation  of  my  being  so  honored 
by  holding  such  a  place  in  her  heart,  I  laid  aside  all 
thought  of  the  "Italian  mother  superior"  idea  and  basked 
in  the  happiness  of  mamma's  and  my  perfect  understand- 
ing which  existed  throughout  our  lives. 

My  young  girl  friend,  gifted  in  music,  painting,  and  a 
soft  heart  for  a  young  boy  friend  gone  West  to  seek  his 
fortune,  fell  easily  into  the  Episcopal  nun's  life,  playing 
the  chapel  organ  for  services ;  suspended  in  air  on  a 
painter's  cot  (a  la  Italienne)  decorating  with  cherubs  the 
ceilings  and  walls  of  said  chapel ;  visiting  other  sensitive- 
hearted  maidens  within  the  nun's  precinct.  All  this 
flattered  and  broadened  her  views  which  had  been  very 
narrow  and  severe  so  Marietta  told  me  in  one  of  our 
later  year  talks. 


80  Personal  Experiences 

Her  exquisite  wavy  Titian  hair,  cropped  short,  and  con- 
fined unhealthily  under  those  regulation  head-bandages 
of  the  nunnery-order,  had  changed  its  loveliness  to  black 
in  color, — so  her  dear  loving  mother  told  me  while  Mariet- 
ta was  on  a  visit  to  her. 

Odd!  Why  do  they  not  make  the  monks  and  priests 
bandage  up  their  own  heads  in  the  same  manner  which 
would  only  make  them  bald  a  little  sooner,  than  do  the 
everlasting  brushes,  loosening  the  roots  of  one's  hair ; 
instead  of  boys  being  taught  to  comb  it  every  night  when 
the  girls  of  their  family  always  comb  theirs  before  retir- 
ing. Instead  the  young  and  older  men  are  persistantly 
brushing  flat  nature's  gift  of  soft,  wavy  locks  which  were 
so  effective  in  their  ancestor's  distinguished  looking  por- 
traits. Young  fellows  take  off  their  soft  moustaches 
which,  if  allowed  at  first  to  progress  in  their  pristine 
growth,  after  a  few  shaves  of  their  neophital  down  would 

I  at  sight  classify  them  apart  and  above  waiters  and  coach- 
men, etc.,  for  which,  in  older  nations  the  laws  of  distinc- 
tion, order  the  latter  "in  service"  to  appear  shorn  of  that 
adornment  of  the  upper  lip. 

Our  class  of  men  when  growing  older,  should  not 
when  turning  grey  give  way  to  weak  vanity  to  try  and 
hide  the  sign  of  their  passing  youth,  by  shaving  off  the 
graceful  moustache,  for  it  gives  a  drawn  look  to  their 
\  mouths  and  really  ages  them,  with  a  flat  expression  of 
the  upper  lip. 


In   Life's    Journey  81 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

My  playmate  sister  and  I  had  bade  each  other  "good 
bye,"  after  our  last  "tag"  around  those  delightful  tail 
doors  and  rooms  on  the  third  stoiy,  173  Madison  Avenue, 
our  ideal  home,  where  centered  our  happy  childhood.  As 
she  once  said  of  late  years  (while  reflectively  reminisc- 
ing), "Constance,  you  and  I  had  an  ideal  childhood." 
She,  now  twelve  years  old  went  to  Fort  Hamilton  with 
her  aunts  Antoinette  and  Charlotte,  wheie  papa  who 
doted  on  her  and  her  (to  his  critical  eye)  superbly  devel- 
oped head  phrenologically  promised  everything  wonder- 
ful. 

He  was  able  to  run  down  to  her  week  ends  from  New 
York,  while  too  far  away  from  us  for  him  to  come  but 
twice,  at  Sharon,  our  destination. 

Mamma  and  the  maid  had  locked  and  dispatched  our 
trunks,  and  papa  smiled  approval  as  we  all  "were  seated  on 
the  train,  off  for  Sharon  Springs,  as  a  prelude  to  New- 
port, before  making  my  debut  that  next  winter,  when  I 
should  have  attained  my  18th  birthday. 

An  old  bachelor  had  met  me  at  the  wedding  reception 
and  dance  of  one  of  the  Depaus,  in  their  wonderful  gal- 
leried  mansion,  extending  through  from  sixteenth  to  fif- 
teen streets  between  Fifth  and  Sixth  Avenues,  now  the 
New  York  Hospital,  where,  after  my  marriage  (through 
my  anatomical  studies  with  my  father,  and  under  old 
Doctor  Baner)  I  was  allowed  to  work  in  surgical  cases 
with  the  late  Doctor  Frank  Markoe,  dubbed  "the  Prince 
of  Operatois,"  a  dear  friend  of  my  noted  brother  Rudolph 
Schack. 


82  Personal  Experiences 

This  old  bachelor,  while  down  town,  heard  papa  say 
we  were  off  for  Sharon  so  he  followed  suit,  and  was  on 
the  train  with  flowers  and  bonbons.  Mamma  said  after 
our  arrival  that  afternoon,  that  he  had  confided  to  her, 
that  he  "wanted  her  to  .give  him  a  chance  with  Miss 
Constance,"  but  after  my  smiling  as  a  joke  at  the  idea  of 
my  marrying  him  or  anyone;  that  I  had  not  begun  to  fly 
yet,  or  compare  one  with  the  other  of  his  sex.  Upon 
rejoining  the  aspiring  swain,  she  told  him  "'twas  in  vain, 
that  I  was  too  young  for  him,"  and  while  we  were  prom- 
enading after  five  o'clock  country  dinner-hour,  he  ap- 
peared with  a  long  (though  born-round)  face,  pressed  my 
hand  mournfully  good-bye,  jumped  off  the  four  hundred 
foot  longipiazza  into  the  grass,  causing  himself  to  be 
observed  y^  all  the  hotel  guests,  and  ran  like  a  deer  to 
avoid  speaking  to  anyone,  and  disappeared  like  a  meteor 
toward  the  side-entrance  and  off  with  the  railroad  bus. 

Miss  Emily  E.  exclaimed  in  hot  indignation  within 
ear-shot  (not  knowing  then,  how  innocent  of  the  accusa- 
tion I  was,  for  I  had  simply  liked  to  listen  to  his  older 
mind's  accounts  of  historical  events  and  the  improving 
subjects  with  which  he  had  always  entertained  me)  : 
"Fancy,  little  Miss  Schack  so  heartless  as  to  bring  Mr.  O. 
all  the  way  up  here  to  Sharon  Springs  for  the  pleasure 
of  refusing  him !" 

I  was  always  particularly  nice  to  her  after  that,  so 
that  sometime  I  could  tell  her  that  my  principle  was  to 
strive  not  to  allow  a  man  to  offer  himself,  so  I  might  not 
cause  the  suitor  a  moment's  feeling  of  humiliation  by 
"being  refused"  as  girls  called  it. 


UPPER:    (UNKNOWN),   DELANCEY  KANE,   CHAS.   MAY   OELRICHS, 
HARRY  OELRICHS,   (UNKNOWN.     LOWER:  WILLIAM  WAL- 
DORF ASTOR,  CAMPBELL  STUART,  JOHN  HONE 

At  a  Dinner  Given  by  Senators  Kean  and  Mrs.  Griffin  in  15th  Street,  N.  Y. 


In   Li.e's    Journey  85 


CHAPTER  XX. 

My  devoted  maid  wanted  to  see  me  walk  down  the  hotel 
stairs  with  my  first  train-gown  on,  and  to  watch  how  I 
acted.  Mamma's  error,  I  later  realized,  was  in  her  dear 
fancy  to  bi  ing  me  up  with  no  thought  of  love  of  dress  or 
to  hear  that  word,  but  for  me  to  simply  stand  up,  mentally 
studying  my  next  day's  lesson,  or  memorizing  poems  of 
immortal  Longfellow  or  the  woids  of  my  Italian  songs  as 
my  voice  developed. 

On  said  occasion,  it  resulted  in  that  maid's  utter  dis- 
gust, at  my  reaching  the  last  staircase  step  with  no 
noticeable  pride  in  my  young-ladyish  appendage.  Upon 
my  leaching  the  last  step  of  the  staircase,  I  was  greeted 
by  several  waiting  swains  at  its  base.  Off  I  danced,  un- 
conscious of  any  train  (for  in  those  days  with  a  stiff 
buckram  flounce  underneath  and  around  their  edges  no 
one  held  up  their  "train"),  which  moved  in  unison,  float- 
ing gracefully  behind  us  as  couple  after  couple  glided 
along  to  the  entrancing  strains  of  Strauss'  and  Chopin's 
ever  engaging  waltzes. 

I  had  to  meet  and  become  acquainted  with  all  the 
girls,  daughters  of  mamma's  friends,  and  as  I  had  never 
known  any,  nor  had  I  been  allowed  to  play  with  any  but 
my  little  sister  and  our  nurse,  then  our  maid,  in  Madison 
Avenue,  unconscious  of  any  invitations  to  children's 
parties,  which  were  received  for  us  by  our  mother. 
Neither  were  we  allowed  to  attend  dancing  school,  but 
were  taught  those  very  best  steps  by  our  graceful  Danish 
father  on  afternoons  in  our  long  drawing  room,  standing 
up  before  him  all  attention,  which  we  thought  great  fun. 
After  my  debut,  it  was  given  out  to  the  young  men  that 


86  Personal  Experiences 

none  of  them  should  ever  join  Miss  Schack  on  the  Fifth 
Avenue  promenade  if  she  were  alone,  not  unless  her 
brother  or  her  mother  were  with  her.  And  never  allowed 
even  at  Newport  "on  the  Avenue"  to  drive  along  with 
gentlemen  in  their  tandems  with  groom  behind  or  other- 
wise. Rather  a  strict  order  of  things,  but  when  asked : 
"Is  it  your  idea  or  your  mother's  and  don't  you  lose  a 
great  deal  of  pleasure,  Miss  Schack?"  I  answered:  "My 
ideas  and  my  mother's  are  exactly  alike,  and  I  have  so 
many,  many  pleasures  I  am  quite  satisfied." 

The  Danes  are  most  graceful  dancers,  and  dance  as 
long  as  life  lasts  at  all  their  balls  and  entertainments, 
which  are  graced  by  a  deferential  mingling  of  old  and 
young  together. 

Papa  impressed  upon  my  brothers  and  myself  that  his 
uncle  was  such  a  dancer  and  steady  of  nerves  that  at  a 
Court  dinner,  as  they  arose  and  the  waltz  music  rang 
out,  he  encircled  the  waist  of  his  lady  partner,  and  with 
the  coffee  to  the  brim  of  his  cup  in  his  other  hand  danced 
around  the  table,  never  spilling  a  drop  of  the  liquid.  As 
the  other  couples  followed  him,  he  gracefuly  returned  his 
smiling  partner  to  her  seat,  amid  the  hand  clapping  of 
the  enthusiastic  dinner  company. 


In   Life's   Journey  87 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

To  go  back.  I  had  not  acquired  any  small-talk  when  I 
first  was  thrown  with  the  girls,  and  felt  quite  at  a  loss 
upon  one  girl  asking  me  if  I  had  read  in  that  day's  paper 
of  a  terrible  murder,  etc.  I  was  ignorant  of  it  all,  and 
when  my  girl  friends  crowded  around  asking:  "What 
do  you  read  in  the  papers?"  I  softly  answered:  "The 
Diplomatic  News;"  for  that  seemed  each  morning  (as  I 
sat  at  my  father's  side  after  breakfast)  to  be  the  news  of 
interest  which  my  parents  alternately  read  aloud  to  each 
other  across  the  table  as  they  were  wont  to  divide  the 
newspaper  after  completing  that  meal. 

The  sarcasm  in  the  voices  of  those  girls  mimicking  "the 
diplomatic  news"  struck  me.  I  shrunk  within  myself, 
metaphorically  speaking,  mentally  classing  myself  as  a 
stupid  little  fool  not  to  read  about  murders  and  thrilling 
things  besides  the  subject  which  most  interested  my 
father,  whose  country  was  still  engaged  in  strenuous 
efforts  with  Bismarck,  the  iron-willed  Prussian  ruler  over 
all  the  Germans,  for  self-aggrandizement. 

My  uncle  Sophus  Schack,  father's  celebrated  brother,, 
the  general  of  the  whole  Danish  army  (against  this  man 
with  the  heart  of  stone  who  stole  away  from  us  our  two 
islands  of  Schleswig  and  Holstein),  having  fallen  with 
honors,  had  awakened  in  my  soul  a  swelling  pride  as  I 
gazed  often  at  his  picture  in  the  Danish  uniform,  which, 
hangs  in  our  corridor  by  the  fireside. 

These  undercurrent  thoughts  were  ever  in  my  mind,, 
and  I  used  to  wonder  as  a  little  girl  how  it  would  further 
our  cause  about  those  two  islands  when  Bismarck  should 
die.  But  his  power  was  not  to  be  ended  by  only  his 


88  Personal  Experiences 

death!  My  childhood's  wondering  amazement  was 
aroused  by  the  present  Kaiser  ascending  the  throne,  as 
one  of  his  first  acts  was  that  of  humbling  and  humiliating 
Bismarck  by  relegating  him  to  his  own  domains  and  grant 
of  property,  away  from  the  active  life  and  power  of  dip- 
lomacy ! 

In  the  then  young  Kaiser,  the  intention  of  his  own 
right  to  rule  and  dominate  all  and  every  one  of  his  sub- 
jects under  his  own  plans  and  projects,  developed  the 
iron-power  he  wields  in  these  momentous  days, — months 
lengthen  into  years.  How  long,  oh,  Lord ! 

Those  fine  stalwart  German  peasants,  all  led  to  the 
slaughter.  No  gentleman's  mode  of  warfare — iron  hand, 
iron  weapons,  iron  balls — men  of  both  sides  the  "ten- 
pins." A  game  of  soft  tender  flesh  (many  noble  souls 
within  that  flesh)  standing  at  unknown  distances,  re- 
ceiving their  shattering,  or  their  mortal  wounds,  dealt 
from  unseen  hands. 

No  glorious  warriors  hand  to  hand  dividing  honors  as 
in  cultivated  warfare  from  the  Holy  Wars,  down  to  our 
Civil  and  Spanish  Wars ! 

No,  instead,  savagery ;  "wooden  heads  and  wooden 
hearts  from  babyhood"  have  been  trained  under  that 
hardening  influence  to  devise  Machiavellian  methods  to 
destroy,  never  to  create. 


COUNT    ADOLPH    SCHACK 

Became  Blind.    Papa  Schack's  Cousin  Who  Settled  in  Munich,  Whose  Celebrated 

Art   Gallery   Opened   Twice  a  Week   to   Public.      He   Left   it   to   the 

Emperor,  Who  Gave  it  to  Munich. 


In  Life's   Journey  91 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  description  of  summer  life  at  Sharon,  in  the  face  of 
stress  like  the  present,  seems  suddenly  puerile,  but  hav- 
ing begun,  I  take  up  my  pen  to  describe  many  amusing 
and  interesting  incidents. 

The  first  "afternoon  cotillion"  as  was  then  the  custom, 
in  which  dance  figures  were  formed  by  a  leader,  in  the 
center  of  the  ball  rooms,  and  so  many  couples  taking  the 
floor  at  a  time. 

The  young  ladies  gave  this  one,  and  /  was  left  out. 
Well,  I  did  not  mind,  as  I  did  not  yet  know  them,  new- 
comer as  I  was,  fresh  from  my  tutors  and  my  music  and 
singing  masters.  I  had  not  even  met  but  a  few  of  them. 

So  I  was  pleased  the  following  morning  as  one  of  two 
favorite  brothers,  sons  of  men  of  leisure,  walked  to  my 
side,  stating  that  the  young  men  who  had  been  invited 
to  yesterday's  dance  had  missed  the  sight  of  me  and  were 
giving  a  cotillion  of  fifteen  couples  that  afternoon  at  five 
o'clock,  and  /  was  to  lead  with  the  taller  and  wittier  of 
these  two  brothers. 

When  it  came  to  the  flower  figure,  for  which  the  young 
men  had  purchased  bouquets  between  them,  I  sat  at  the 
head  of  the  large  circular  room  in  front  of  some  empty 
chairs,  and,  to  my  surprise,  as  one  after  the  other  of  the 
young  men  walked  up  and  presented  their  bouquet  to  me, 
I,  in  consideration  of  other  girls'  feelings,  placed  some 
behind  me  on  those  chairs  until  thirteen  out  of  the  fifteen 
bouquets  were  presented  to  me. 

Mr.  W.  F.  who  quizzically  looked  down  at  my  pleased 
embarrassment,  answered  my  questioning  eye.  I  divined 


92  Personal  Experiences 

it  was  tne  lesult  of  a  preconceived  plan  on  their  part  for 
the  benefit  of  the  other  girls  of  yesterday's  cotillion. 

The  girls  learned  to  like  me  as  cordially  as  I  learned 
to  like  them,  for  each  had  an  individuality  and  magnetism 
all  their  own.  There  are  many  of  them  living  in  dear 
old  New  York  now,  and  very  devoted  in  their  giving 
charming  dinners  and  luncheons  in  my  honor,  whenever 
I  notify  them  of  my  going  up  to  New  York. 

Those  Sharon  "lemonade  paities,"  after  evening  dances, 
given  in  turn,  in  the  girls'  rooms  exclusive  of  men. 

Mr.  Gardiner  had  asked  permission  of  mamma  (as  my 
being  the  newcomer  among  the  old  habitues  and  their 
daughter)  to  present  the  specially  tempting  cake  and  'ade, 
for  my  turn  in  giving  that  lemonade  night  party,  "with 
the  proprietor's  family's  compliments." 

Such  fun!  We  all  sat  around  on  chairs  lifted  up  on 
the  back  of  the  bed  all  around  the  wall  of  my  room. 

Bright,  amusing,  simple  stories,  soft  laughter,  hospit- 
able replenishing  of  the  sandwiches,  "  'ade"  and  cake, 
um! — so  good  and  refreshing! 

The  knocking  on  the  door  from  teasing  young  men  out- 
side climbing  up  to  the  two  high  transoms  (for  their 
ceilings  and  doors  were  built  very  extra  high),  and  notes 
playfully  thrown  over,  causing  little  shrieks  of  amuse- 
ment, all  fun.  And  then  a  good  night  to  all,  and  a  quiet 
dispersal. 

No  one  was  ever  disturbed  by  those  young  daughters' 
lemonade  parties — 12:30  was  the  limit. 

My  horse  used  to  await  me  around  at  the  side  door, 
and  one  or  another  of  the  couples  accompanied  me  very 
frequently. 

One  of  my  kindest  and  cleverest  admirers  was  a  young 
lady,  Miss  Louise  McAllister,  only  daughter  of  Mr.  Ward 
McAllister,  author  of  "New  York's  400."  She  knew  about 


In   Life's   Journey  93 

everyone  and  everything  socially.  As  I  appeared  at  the 
side  door  with  my  five-feet-two-inches  long  hair  in 
braids  (which  I  used  to  cross  and  loop  in  front  of  my 
waist,  wom  that  way  so  as  not  to  pull  on  my  head  or 
uncomfortably  fall  about  in  confusion).  Miss  McAllister 
had  told  many  to  assemble  there  to  see  me.  But  they 
quite  dismayed  me  at  sight  on  my  descending  that  back 
staircase,  so  I  told  Mary,  my  maid,  to  run  and  order  my 
horse  to  be  taken  to  the  front  deserted  piazza.  Where- 
upon a  sound  of  scampering  feet,  and  the  crowd  had  all 
appealed,  a  snappy  voice  rang  out:  "Well,  Sharon  has 
come  to  a  pietty  pass  when  its  guests  will  run  from  one 
piazza  to  another  to  see  a  girl  mount  her  horse." 

The  great  event,  however,  was  Mr.  Peter  Marie's  fancy 
dance,  dinner  and  masked  party  at  "The  Sea  House," 
and  subsequent  supper  at  the  long-table  which  climaxed 
the  season.  He  was  very  attentive  to  the  cleverest  of  the 
older  girls,  Miss  Charlotte  Wise,  our  beloved  and  valuable 
promoter  of  so  many  noble  charities  in  Washington,  now 
Mrs.  Archibald  Hopkins. 

At  that  affair  I  put  a  couple  of  small  pebbles  in  my 
mouth,  then  I  talked  with  an  Irish  bar-maid's  brogue,  and 
assumed  a  limp  which  seemed  to  please  me  keenly,  though 
now  I  should  fancy  it  a  bit  stupid. 

Miss  Ellie  Evans  told  me  later  that  she  dressed  her 
hair  like  my  daily  coiffure  and  imitated  me,  having 
nume.ous  adorers  at  her  feet,  one  of  them  she  said 
"sprouting  poetry." 

Guests  being  all  seated  according  to  cards,  now  came  a 
soft  note  of  Mr.  F's  from  way  down  the  table.  I  blush- 
ingly  ignored  it  then,  and  also  when  the  swain  joined  me 
in  the  Virginia  Reel.  Finally,  ere  we  rose  from  that 
bountiful  table,  our  most  hospitable  host  read  aloud  a 
poem  by  himself,  descriptive  of  each  lady  guest.  The 


94  Personal  Experiences 

beautiful  Mis  Sara  Grade  King,  Miss  Beekman,  Miss 
Kitty  Hamersley  (the  late  and  beautiful  swan-like  mother 
of  the  present  Mrs.  Sam  Hinckley),  Miss  Livingston,  Miss 
Swan  and  Miss  Wise.  Mr.  Marie's  verse  to  the  last  name 
ran  as  below: 

"Would  you  know  a  large  soul,  a  bright  mind, 

A  garland  of  stars  in  her  eyes, 
One  magnetic,  unselfish,  most  kind, 

Turn,  enchanted  turn,  to  Miss  Wise. 

"If  we  want  what  to  Nature  belongs, 

We  must  wait  till  Miss  Schack  rustles  by, 

For  the  nightingale  dwells  in  her  songs, 
The  gazelle  in  her  melting  brown  eye." 

Regretful  not  to  have  the  other  verses. 


In   Life's   Journey  95 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

OFF  FOR  NEWPORT. 

My  handsome  father  appeared  the  previous  evening 
for  the  purpose  of  escorting  us  safely  through,  and  as  I 
joyously  left  all  my  kindly  congregated  friends  to  greet 
him,  and  quietly  returned  to  them  later,  Mr.  James  Cut- 
ting joined  me  (having  watched  my  act)  and  remarked: 
"Miss  Schack,  you  have  never  known  a  sorrow!"  "Never," 
said  I,  brightly  smiling  at  him.  "It  will  come  some  day," 
he  added  prophetically,  and  a  feeling  of  deep  resentment 
toward  him  for  what  seemed  a  ruthless  and  heartless 
prediciton,  rushed  over  me. 

I  could  not  know  how  soon  my  beloved,  ideal  father  was 
to  be  stricken  away  from  me  in  my  young  life ! 

To  Newport  and  the  Porter  Villa  (called  "the  stone 
villa")  to  be  met  by  my  wonderful  aunt,  Mrs.  Jacob  Little. 
Mrs.  Parans  Stevens  and  her  daughter,  beautiful  Miss 
Minnie  Stevens,  entertained  most  lavishly  at  that  time 
and  were  very  kind  to  me.  Her  daughter  later  became 
Lady  Paget  of  England.  I  had  an  old  time  chat  with  her 
at  our  mutual  girlhood  friend's,  charming  Belle  Wilson, 
then  gracing  the  British  Embassy,  as  Lady  Michael  Her- 
bert, who  phoned  to  me,  on  learning  I  had  arrived  in 
Washington  during  President  Arthur's  reign,  and  at 
once  sent  me  an  invitation  by  messenger  to  her  ball  for 
the  following  night.  And  what  a  superb  ball ! 

Since  that  happy  time  her  husband,  too,  has  gone  out 
of  this  life,  though  her  sons  are  left  to  her.  Luscious 
hot-house  grapes,  by  generous  old  Mr.  Stevens,  were 
brought  to  me  in  Newport,  because  he  liked  my  having 
filled  their  tableau  of  "Ophelia." 


96  Personal  Experiences 

I,  in  my  filmy  tulle  and  silk  gown  and  my  waved  hair 
down  to  the  ground  covered  me,  the  wreaths  of  wild 
flowers  in  my  hands,  held  over  an  imaginary  sea,  I  was 
supposed  to  be  bereft  of  reason  for  Hamlet. 

The  future  Duchess  of  Manchester  who  married  Kim- 
bolton,  Lord  Manderville,  nee  the  beautiful  Miss  Con- 
suelo  Yzoraga,  was  there  visiting  the  Paran  Stevens. 
She  was  often  with  us  when  they  came  up  from  their 
plantation  in  the  South,  and  mamma  was  at  the  dinner 
given  by  Mr.  Luckemeyer,  a  wonderful  affair,  in  honor 
of  Consuelo,  at  Delmonico's.  In  a  tin,  oval  fern-flanked 
pan  full  of  real  water,  down  the  center  of  the  table, 
small  swans  glided  on  its  surface,  while  music  softly 
played,  and  pretty  souvenirs  were  bestowed  upon  those 
happy  diners. 

The  great  Neilson  also  was  visiting  the  Paran  Stevens. 
In  her  winsome  way  with  the  young  girls,  she  had  one 
girl's  arm  linked  in  her  own  right  arm,  and  mine  in  her 
left  one.  Sweetly  turning  her  fine  fair  Swedish  face 
toward  me  she  spoke :  "You  must  learn  to  love  me  just  a 
little."  That  winter,  as  innocent  Margherite,  in  Faust, 
and  in  her  impersonation  of  pure,  noble  Elsa,  in  Lohen- 
gren,  I  felt  in  all  girlish  enthusiasm  that  I  loved  her  "just 
a  little." 


In   Life's   Journey  97 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

What  a  summer !  Those  swims,  early  in  the  morning 
with  my  aunt  and  mamma  in  attendance.  A  white  muslin 
mask  covered  my  pearl  white  skin,  so  careful  were  they 
that  I  should  have  no  speck.  My  long  white  silk  barege 
vei!  covered  a  huge  white  specially  woven  mohair  sun- 
hat,  lined  with  pale  blue  silk,  and  a  wreath  of  wild  flowers 
bent  down  at  the  side,  formed  my  usual  head-gear. 

My  walks,  but  never  was  my  face  allowed  to  be  ex- 
posed to  the  sun's  burning  rays.  Only  in  the  house,  at 
the  dinner  and  evening  functions  did  my  white  tulle 
gowns  and  my  neck  "vie  with  each  other."  So  said  dear 
Mrs.  James  Kernochan,  with  whom  I  stayed  a  fortnight, 
visiting  her  splendid  daughter  "Kate,"  now  Mrs.  Her- 
bert Pell. 

Mrs.  Kernochan,  a  witty,  generous  and  hospitable 
friend,  always  opened  the  Newport  season  the  4th  of 
July,  and  on  that  occasion  she  introduced  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thomas  Walsh  and  their  daughter. 

Her  last  two  vividly  recalled  entertainments  (one  in 
my  honor,  a  large,  handsomely  appointed  Sunday  din- 
ner, and  later,  a  luncheon  in  honor  of  my  daughter,  Edith 
Temple  Gracie),  and  Dunbar  Adams'  engagement,  were 
the  "last  social  functions  given  by  our  deeply  lamented 
and  loved  Mrs.  James  Kernochan."  Thus  wrote  a  fine 
old  chevalier  habitue  of  Newport  in  a  note  to  myself. 

I  recall  once,  while  there  in  Newport,  they  had  gotten 
up  two  plays,  one  a  French  one  in  which  Mr.  Beckwith 
and  the  daughter  of  a  lady  from  England  were  filling  the 
roles. 


98  Personal  Experiences 

Also  a  Continental  Play  called  "Mercy,"  the  role  filled 
by  Mr.  Parnell's  sister  from  Ireland  on  a  visit;  she  was 
tall,  stately  and  prim. 

'Twas  written  by  Mrs.  Dr.  Wheeler,  the  daughter  of 
the  first  governor  of  Rhode  Island,  Governor  Lawrence, 
whose  wife  was  "Miss  Grade,"  great  aunt  of  my  husband 
to  be,  but  at  that  time  I  never  dreamed  I'd  be  in  the 
family ! 

The  time  of  said  play  was  during  the  "Tea  Act"  and  its 
being  thrown  overboard  in  Boston  Harbor.  The  young 
sister-in-law  of  Captain  Wm.  McCarty  Little  considered 
the  second  part  as  too  small  for  her  talents  and  refused 
the  role  of  the  young  ingenue  daughter  of  "Mercy"  whose 
young  officer  fiance  leaves  Mercy  with  outraged  feelings 
and  disgust  at  her  serving  tea  the  very  afternoon  of  the 
"Boston  Tea  Act."  Then  "good  bye"  forever,  and  he 
disappears. 

The  second  act  opens — supposed  to  be  after  twenty 
years — and  Mercy  the  widow  of  Comte  de  Liancourt, 
one  of  General  Lafayette's  followers,  is  out  driving  with 
Mme.  Lafayette  when  into  her  house  walks  an  officer, 
Mercy's  first  fiance. 

The  pretty  scene  as  he  stands  (thrilled  at  sight  of  a 
perfect  reproduction  in  MfeHe.  Marie  de  Liancourt  of  his 
Mercy),  he  extends  his  arms,  and  calls  her  name  ten- 
derly. 

"That  is  Mamma's  name,  I  am  Marie,"  which  I  related 
to  her  on  her  return  from  her  drive,  as  I  in  my  empire 
soft,  silky  gown  (which  had  belonged  to  the  Kane's  grand- 
mother and  loaned  me  for  the  occasion,  a  black  sash 
for  mourning  in  honor  of  my  father,  the  cour(t),  with  a 
French  accent  recounted  in  the  third  act  to  my  eagerly 
listening  mother  the  recent  scene  with  her  former  fiance 
returned  to  life  and  hope,  till  the  tears  were  in  both  of 


MR.  HENRY  MAff,  SR.,  OF  BALTIMORE 

At   Newport.      Assistant   of    Importance   in    Theatrical    Play   of   Mrs.    Dr. 
Wheeler's  Play  "MercJw'  Continental  Time  of  Boston  Tea  Party. 


In   Life's   Journey  101 

our  eyes.  "You  are  crying  Mamma,"  I  exclaimed,  then 
I  glided  to  the  spinet  on  the  stage  with  my  singing  master 
at  the  real  piano  facing  me,  hidden  in  thevring. 

My  voice  rang  out,  my  feet  unconsciously  beating  time 
on  the  spindle  pedals.  I  was  frightened  at  the  applause 
and  the  voices:  "Marvelous,  bringing  such  sweet  music 
out  of  that  old  spinet!" 

Applause  continuing  after  I  had  withdrawn  and  I, 
feeling  that  I  had  finished  all  that  I  was  called  upon  to 
do,  and  also  in  fear  that  my  very  particular  and  absent 
father  would  be  horrified  to  learn  that  his  young  daughter 
had  acted  on  a  stage  (even  tho'  'twas  in  amateur) ,  having 
always  cautioned  us  that  it  would  be  a  disgrace  to  his 
Danish  family  for  a  child  of  his  to  do  anything  in  public. 
Tears  welled  up  in  my  eyes,  when  I  was  persistently 
urged  to  go  back  on  the  stage  and  bow  to  the  audience. 

Mr.  Henry  May,  a  great  friend  of  the  family  gently 
whispered:  "Miss  Constance,  they  are  all  waiting  for 
you  to  appear,  and  there  are  also  a  number  of  beautiful 
floral  pieces  awaiting  you,  one  a  stunner  from  Mr.  Peter 
Marie." 

I  reluctantly  followed  him  out,  and  while  bowing 
glanced  over  all  the  mass  of  Newport's  society  (whose 
heads  looked  only  like  balls  above  their  chair-tops),  and 
happily  my  eyes  lighting  suddenly  on  the  three  faces  of 
mamma,  Aunts  Helen  and  Augusta,  I  spontaneously 
kissed  my  hand,  smiling  relievedly  at  them,  then  vanished 
quickly  behind  the  scenes. 

Aunt  Augusta  once  back  home,  remarked  with  amuse- 
ment, "What  do  you  think!  Mrs.  Beckwith,  seated  be- 
hind me,  when  you,  little  girl,  kissed  your  hand  to  us, 
as  soon  as  you  recognized  us  in  our  chairs,  exclaimed, 
4Too  stagey  for  me !'  Funny,  wasn't  it?" 


102  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Back  to  New  York  and  our  beautiful  home,  173  Madi- 
son Avenue. 

My  sweet  sister  after  our  fond  first  greeting  looked  at 
me  questioningly  and  sadly  asked,  "Aren't  you  going  to 
play  with  me  any  more  ?" 

She  continued  her  schooling  with  Laura  D'Oremieulx, 
now  Mrs.  West  Roosevelt,  Emily  flLgston,  who  married 
Dick  Mulligan  of  Elizabeth,  N.  J.,  closest  friend  of  Mrs. 
Admiral  Clover,  and  who  built  with  care  a  home  at  the 
corner  of  16th  and  R  streets,  but  never  lived  to  occupy 
it ;  the  Bulkley  girls,  now  Mrs.  Roland  Redmund  and  Mrs. 
Prescott  Lawrence  of  Boston ;  and  many  sweet  young 
girls  whose  weekly  dancing  class  she  joined,  forming  a 
life-long  coterie  of  most  charming  friends. 

While  I,  with  my  daily  tutors,  the  great  Florentine 
Italian  Master  Rocchietti  (pronounced  Rukkittee),  look- 
ing like  a  long-bearded  patriarch,  put  me  into  Dante,  he 
said  "to  make  me  think  in  the  language."  Errani,  in 
his  last  old  days  of  purest  Italian  method  in  singing,  and 
Professor  Frobisher  in  history,  with  mamma  putting  me 
through  "Plutarch's  Lives,"  Prescott's  "Conquest  of  Mex- 
ico," "The  Stones  of  Venice,"  to  enable  me  to  appreciate 
architecture;  and  Mme.  de  Staels'  "Corrinne,"  that  I 
might  have  an  idea  of  the  most  polished  ways  of  olden 
society,  etc. ;  my  mornings  were  always  filled. 

I  very  seldom  read  a  novel,  always  selected  by  my  wise 
and  witty  mother,  and  never  have  I  read  a  French  novel 
to  this  day,  oddly  enough.  She  did  not  advocate  the  exist- 
ing French  style,  and  morale  therein  contained. 


In   Life's    Journey  .  103 

I  really  never  had  any  inclination  to  do  what  she  ad- 
vised against.  Perhaps  that  is  why  my  heart  has  always 
remained  young,  and,  yes,  happy  throughout  years  of 
shadows,  as  well  as  sunshine. 

One  rebounds  from  the  awful  crushes  (when  beaten 
to  the  earth)  like  a  Phoenix  arises  from  the  ashes,  one 
arises  purified  and  strengthened  through  faith  in  God's 
cleansing  fire,  that  fire  which  is  intended  to  clarify  our 
vision  into  heavenly  things  and  purposes.  However,  many 
resist,  with  a  spirit  of  obstinacy,  so  strongly  developed  in 
many  of  us  struggling  brothers  and  sisters  on  earth. 


104  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MY  FIRST  RECEPTION — To  MAKE  MY  DEBUT. 

"At  Home  from  Four  to  Seven. 
Cotillion  at  Ten  P.  M." 

The  splendid  collations  as  given  in  those  days,  with  a 
huge  salmon  covered  with  maillonaise,  pyramids  of 
meringue  filled  with  rich  whipped  cream,  great  dishes  of 
jellied  pate  de  fois  gras.  Mumm's  extra  dry  champagne, 
and  old  Madeira;  with  all  the  little  dainties  and  confec- 
tions, furnished  by  Trusty,  the  then  great  caterer  for 
Washington  Square  and  Fifth  and  Madison  Avenues' 
private  entertainments. 

Landers'  Band  had  arrived. 

The  thrilling  event  was  really  start/ing.  Mamma  in 
her  crimson  velvet  square  necked  gown,  with  rare  old 
point  de  Venice  lace  and  diamonds  against  her  crystaline 
skin,  was  lovely.  I  stood  beside  her,  a  proud  admiring 
daughter,  loaded  down  with  bouquets  from  the  Howlands, 
Beekmans,  Livingstons,  Stuyvesants,  Ketelfas,  Wetmores, 
and,  oh,  so  many  of  the  friends  of  my  beloved  parents. 
My  aunt,  Mrs.  Willie  Waterman  of  Providence,  so  fair, 
and  together  with  the  beautiful  Miss  Mary  Keteltas,  sis- 
ter of  Mrs.  Senator  Wetmore,  were  in  the  receiving  line 
beside  mamma.  The  last  named  Miss  Kettetfas  often 
chaperoned  me  at  balls,  when  mamma  wanted  to  stay 
home  with  my  father. 

That  evening's  cotillion  was  led  by  Mr.  Richard  Irving, 
and  seconded  by  Mr.  William  P.  Douglas,  the  handsom- 
est and  most  distinguished  looking  Scotchman,  the  most 
sought  after  in  New  York's  circle  of  athletic  and  opera 


MRS.   BRADLEY-MARTIN 
In  the  Gown  She  Wore  at  Her  Famous  Ball  in  New  York  City. 


In   Life's    Journey  107 

beaux  of  that  day.  He  is  my  daughter,  Edith  Temple 
Giacie's,  godfather.  His  own  lovely  girlish  looking  daugh- 
ter, Edith  Sybil  Douglas,  now  Mrs.  William  Whitehouse, 
with  whom  I  chatted  a  few  months  ago,  and  my  Edith, 
are  devoted  to  him. 

He  often  sits  wearied  and  discouraged  by  his  illness, 
which  no  doctor  can  locate,  though  still  witty  and  humor- 
ous. Handsome  now,  with  perfect  features  which  time 
cannot  change,  his  soft  white  curly  hair  and  well-trimmed 
white  beard,  always  well  groomed,  he  sits  ruminating 
upon  the  mystery  of  it  all. 

His  daily  solitary  walks  do  not  reinstate  his  health 
and  blueness  oft  returns  to  his  heart,  true  blue  to  its 
core,  and  truthful  in  his  soul  as  was  my  own  noble  hus- 
band. Few  there  be,  and  far  between,  are  those  who 
lie  not,  so  says  the  world,  and  those  two  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  knowing. 

I  met  and  came  to  enjoy  the  acquaintance  of  many  de- 
lightful girls,  who,  in  turn,  used  to  give  "stand  up" 
luncheons  of  sixty  of  our  own  set,  the  tall  ones  with 
handkerchiefs  around  an  arm  would  be  the  gentlemen 
partners.  A  leader  would  take  out  couples  to  form  pretty 
squares  and  circles  in  the  center  before  dancing  to  the 
music  of  Landers'  musicians. 

What  a  happy  season,  closing  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley Martin's  ball. 

I  was  around  at  their  houses — that  of  her  mother,  Mrs. 
Sherman,  and  her  own — to  watch  beside  her  (Mrs.  Mar- 
tin) as  the  two  gardens  were  being  covered  over  with 
awnings,  strung  with  lanterns  across  the  beams  over  an 
impromptu  floor  for  supper  tables,  while  the  dancing  was 
to  be  in  their  two  ball-rooms.  And  such  a  ball !  The  bril- 
liant hostess  in  her  satin  and  lace,  soft  light  curly  hair, 
and  dancing  eyes — a  picture  of  happy  enjoyment  of  it 


108  Personal  Experiences 

all;  she  always  communicated  her  whole-souled  glee,  I 
may  say,  in  whatever  paity  she  participated  in. 

Her  dinners  were  par  excellence!  And  the  splendidly 
carved  high  backed  oak  chairs  around  her  table  inspired 
us  with  a  dignity,  as  we  seated  ourselves  on  them  to 
listen  to  the  wit  and  merriment  which  flowed  as  freely  as 
did  her  Moet  and  Chandon  champagne. 

Mamma  and  I  had  our  passage  taken  for  England  on 
the  same  ship  with  her  friends  the  Bradley  Martins,  but 
my  Aunt  Antoinette  falling  ill,  and  mamma's  conscience 
as  to  her  family  duty  being  strong,  she  sent  for  Mrs. 
Bradley  Martin.  She  passed  that  evening  with  us,  and 
sweetly  discussed  taking  me  under  her  own  wing  on  the 
steamer,  and  chaperoning  me  safely  to  London.  After 
two  nights  with  her  at  Claridge's  Hotel,  she  gave  a  dinner 
there  in  her  own  handsomely  appointed  apartment  (the 
table  luxuriously  decorated  with  roses  which,  she  told 
me,  she  had  selected  at  the  large  London  market  that 
morning  while  she  let  me  sleep),  which  gave  me  an  in- 
sight as  to  her  marvelous  executive  ability. 

She  had  planned  taking  me  down  to  Balmaj^an,  their 
Scotch  hunting  preserves.  But  I  postponed  her  alluring 
invitation,  as  she  had  to  deliver  me  into  the  hands  of  my 
sister  and  her  bride-groom  husband  (then  on  their  wed- 
ding tour)  who  were  to  leave  me  safely  in  Denmark  in  my 
father's  family  with  whom  I  was  to  reside.  And  who  were 
anxiously  awaiting  my  arrival  in  time  for  the  King's 
Races. 

How  we  traveled,  and  reached  Copenhagen  just  the 
night  before.  In  the  starlight  I  noticed  the  tall  manly 
soldierly  figure  of  my  cousin  Julius  Holmblad,  advanc- 
ing toward  us  aboard  the  little  steamer  which  had  brought 
us  across  between  Keil  and  Kosor.  That  was  a  joyous 
meeting. 


CONSTANCE  ELfeSE  SCHACK  ARRIVES  IN  DENMARK. 


f 


MY    SISTER,    MISS    AUGUSTA    TEMPLE    SCHACK 
Now  Mrs.  William  DalHba-Dutton,  New  York  City. 


In   Life's    Journey  113 

We  were  driven  in  his  handsome  equipage  with  his 
cockaded  coachmen  atop,  and  footman  behind  with  our 
valises,  to  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre  until  the  bridal  couple 
should  start  for  Stockholm,  then  Christiania,  and  "The 
Land  of  the  Midnight  Sun,"  (where  they  became  great 
fi  iends  with  Lord  Montague  Guest  and  Sir  John  Lubbuk, 
who  were  up  there  for  salmon  fishing  on  their  "pre- 
serves") . 

There  was  a  thrill  of  realization  that  I  had  actually 
gotten  my  brother-in-law  to  Denmark!  (He  who  had 
been  educated  in  Dresden,  Germany,  where  he  used  to 
study  six  hours  a  day  at  the  piano,  rewarded  by  posses- 
sing an  exquisite  touch,  and  his  selections  most  lovely.) 

He  had  been  instructed  in  Dresden  by  his  teachers  to 
have  a  contempt  for  what  they  told  him  "was  a  little 
country,  insignificant  looking  on  the  map."  Thus  had  he 
spoken  of  it  to  me,  and  lagged  behind  in  starting  and 
traveling  toward  it,  my  goal !,  which  meant  so  much  to  me, 
from  all  my  devoted  father's  teachings,  and  pride  in  that 
splendid  country  of  science,  art  and  wondrous  collections. 
The  great  Thorvaldsen,  our  painter  and  sculptor,  whose 
orders  in  Carrara  Marble,  came  from  all  over  the  Eu- 
ropean world  for  figures,  bas-reliefs  and  friezes  around 
the  tops  of  various  capitols,  opera-houses.  Luzerne  has 
the  reproduction  of  his  powerful  marble  Couchant  Lion. 

His  Kneeling  Angel,  and  Shell  Baptismal  Font,  ordered 
for  many  cathedrals  and  in  as  many  lands !  His  gigantic 
full-length  statue  of  our  Savior  Jesus  with  hands  extended 
in  benediction  stands  in  our  Freu  Kirke,  the  cathedral  of 
Copenhagen.  Now,  also,  in  our  own  beautiful  Washing- 
ton, St.  Thomas  Church,  it  has  been  reproduced;  its 
beatific  marble  features  have  an  especial  light  upon  it. 
It  was  marvelously  elevated  into  an  octagon  hollow  in  the 
masonry,  up  in  the  arch  of  the  ceiling,  in  front  over  the 


114  Personal  Experiences 

altar,  where  one's  eye  cannot  resist  gazing  upward  as  we 
sit  in  silent  wonder  and  adoration.  Episcopaleans  do 
not  adore  statu/tes,  but  we  involuntarily  invest  them  with 
the  spirit  divine,  while  dreaming  of  our  Savior's  life  and 
deeds  on  earth. 

Thorvaldsen's  Museum,  he  had  built  with  his  own  for- 
tune, which  poured  in  during  his  marvelously  assiduous 
seventy  years  at  painting,  but  mostly  scufture.  The  de- 
signs, beauty  and  historical  action  of  which,  causes  one 
to  stand  in  wonder  from  room  to  room  as  one  moves  tak- 
ing it  in. 

Day  after  day  did  my  fair,  witty  aunt,  comrade  and 
wife  of  her  cousin  Etatsraad  Lauuritz  Holmblad,  the 
King's  Counsellor,  drive  up  to  that  museum  for  study 
and  contemplation. 


In   Life's   Journey  115 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

THE  KING'S  RACES. 

I  had  selected  in  London  a  very  pretty,  black  lace  little 
bonnet,  two  lovely  pink  roses  were  nestling  up  on  one 
side  and  lace  streamers  tied  coquettishly  under  my  chin. 
I  advanced  toward  my  cousins,  as  their  equipage  below 
was  in  waiting,  while  I  knew  I  stood  under  inspection. 

As  their  eyes  lighted  up,  and  the  bright  smiles  seemed 
to  pronounce  me  all  right,  I  followed  their  lead,  as  out 
of  their  adjoining  rooms  came  my  beautiful  sister  the 
recent  bride  and  her  husband. 

We  started — arrived,  amid  a  murmur.  We  were  es- 
corted to  the  box  directly  adjoining  that  of  Her  Majesty, 
Queen  Louise.  At  a  fitting  moment  I  was  presented  by  my 
cousins  who  were  very  close  to  their  Majesties. 

A  sudden  trumpet  blew  and  my  stuning  looking  cousin 
Julius  in  full  uniform,  with  three  other  young  officers,  I 
noticed  had  rushed  down  the  steps.  Those  four  being  on 
the  King's  staff,  and  were  standing  at  attention  at  the 
arrival  of  His  Majesty,  King  Christian. 

He  descended  from  his  equipage  and  outriders  in  at- 
tendance at  the  base  of  those  very  steps.  Everything  was 
thrilling.  There  was  pretty  Nina  Moulton,  married  to 
Baron  Raben.  Her  Majesty  had  been  so  pleased  over 
that  marriage  for  she  had  learned  to  love  the  mother,  born 
Miss  Lily  Grenough,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  and  my  own 
mother's  warmest  friend.  She  had  first  married  Mr. 
Charles  Moulton,  and  was  so  often  back  and  forth  at  my 
mother's  lovely  house  at  173  Madison  Avenue,  New  York. 
Weekly  meetings  of  the  Shakespeare  Club,  with  Mrs. 
Barclay  Parsons,  Mrs.  Montague  Ward,  Mrs.  John  Rut- 


MISS   CONSTANCE   SCHACK 
At  the  King's  Races,   Denmark. 


In   Life's    Journey  119 

gers  Marshall,  and  many  others  of  our  social  leaders  with 
their  husbands  filled  the  various  characters,  while  the 
musicales  with  those  of  great  talent  participated  there. 

Miwtwifflfi&S  Moulton  was  the  star  the  night  of  which 
I  here  speak,  and  I  recall  the  tones  of  her  voice,  like 
breathing  music  over  velvet.  Ah !  delirious  was  its  en- 
chantment, and  I,  a  little  eighteen  year  old,  was  to  sing 
the  Brindisi  of  "La  Traviata."  Mamma  had  so  cautioned 
me  not  to  fail,  and  saying  "that  if  I  should,  it  would  be 
because  I'd  be  thinking  of  myself,"  that,  indignant  in- 
ternal denial  of  such  a  thought,  spurred  me  on  to  do  my 
darndest,  and  I  did  it. 

Mme.  Moulton,  who  had  come  from  a  dinner  and  de- 
preciated her  own  singing  therefrom,  walked  graciously 
and  encouragingly  toward  me,  saying  "Child,  you  sang 
better  than  I  did  tonight,  for  my  throat  was  full  of  din- 
ner." She  entranced  us  all  just  the  same  with  her  ren- 
dering of  lovely  songs.  The  following  day,  she  and 
mamma  went  down  to  the  photographers,  and  had  their 
pictures  taken.  And  each,  separately  painted,  were  fitted 
in  narrow  crimson  velvet  and  gilt  beaded  oval  frames, 
which  were  placed  on  one  of  our  two  front  drawing  room 
grape-carved  Carrara-marble  mantle-pieces. 

I  have  that  of  Mme.  Moulton,  left  me  by  my  mother, 
now  reposing  upon  my  front  drawing  room  piano.  'Tis 
the  one  from  which  Mme.  Moulton,  now  the  beloved  Mme. 
de  Hegerman  Linden  Krone  (wife  and  widow  of  the  late 
minister  to  many  large  foreign  countries  in  turn)  has 
chosen  to  have  reproduced  as  the  frontpiece  in  her  book 
called  "At  the  Court  of  Napoleon." 

For  a  long  time,  mother  preserved  Mme.  Moulton's 
letters  in  which  she  announced  her  engagement  to  M.  de 
Hegerman  Linden  Krone,  saying:  "She  knew  papa  and 


120  Personal  Experiences 

mamma  would  congratulate  her  upon  her  having  accepted 
one  of  my  father's  Danish  compatriots." 

Mme.  de  Hegerman  was  at  the  Berlin  Court  when  1 
used  to  receive  letters  from  Mme.  Gonzales  de  Quesada, 
wife  of  the  Cuban  Minister  and  resident  in  Berlin  which 
city  and  surrounding  country  remains  untouched  by  aero- 
planes or  gun-fire ! 


A    MORNING   RIDE    THROUGH    THE    DEER    FOREST 


In   Life's    Journey  125 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

To  RETURN  TO  DENMARK — THE  KING'S  RACES. 

My  cousin  Julius  suddenly  was  by  my  side,  informing 
me  in  an  awful  tone,  "that  the  Princess  Marie  of  Paris, 
our  Danish  Prince  Waldemar's  wife,  is  sitting  on  the  race 
grounds  smoking  a  cigarette  with  one  of  the  officers.  Hor- 
rible!" All  spoken  with  his  little  Danish  accent  in  Eng- 
lish. How  differently  do  people  look  upon  such  customs 
now! 

Then,  a  cheery  voice  again  beside  me :  "Constance,  I 
have  bought  a  horse  at  the  King's  races  for  you.  You 
know  I  wrote  before  you  left  New  York,  asking  you  what 
sport  you  preferred,  and  you  answered  'horse-back  rid- 
ing.' So,  they  say  you  are  an  Amazon  on  a  horse — you 
and  I  shall  ride  each  day  from  6  :30  a.  m.  till  8,  through 
the  deer-forest  to  the  sea  and  return  to  breakfast  of  Quaa- 
brodt  (Bonnie  Klaber),  artichokes  fresh  from  our  gar- 
dens, with  whipped  sweet  butter  from  our  dairy."  Those 
morning  rides — delicious  breakfasts  and  lunches — arti- 
chokes twice  a  day — Danish  soups ! 

That  diplomatic  dinner — my  first  one! 

They  had  placer  the  Italian  Ambassador  on  one  side  of 
me,  the  French  Ambassador  at  my  right,  as  I  was  fluent 
in  five  languages,  for  papa  had  had  me  educated  to  be 
beside  him  in  Denmark  when  he  should  succeed  his  father 
as  "King's  Counsellor."  But  the  real  notice,  when  it  came, 
mamma  dissuaded  him,  with  her  dread  of  probably  leav- 
ing for  ever  all  her  devoted  relations  in  New  York;  to 
cross  the  then  sixteen-days  water  trip  over  that  North 
Sea.  with  small  ships  not  then  built  large  enough  to 


126  Personal  Experiences 

override  the  terrible  roughness  and  seasickness  so  irre- 
sistible to  nearly  everyone  making  that  crossing. 

The  recognition  in  my  aunt  and  uncle's  minds  that  I 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  That  I  was  to  make  them 
proud  of  me  aroused  my  mentality  to  a  realization  that 
now  I  must  concentrate  and  lead  the  conversation  to  ques- 
tions of  diplomacy  bearing  upon  their  individual  fields  of 
work  and  interest.  Endeavoring  also  to  intersperse  a 
few  witticisms  which  I  had  learned  from  my  French  idiom 
professor  Mauzer,  and  that  grand  Italian  master,  Signer 
Rocchietti. 

My  efforts  seemed  to  succeed  for  my  people  patted  me 
and  said  very  pleasant  things  which  had  been  told  them 
by  those  diplomats.  Dear  old  Mons.  de  Bille  came  up  to 
welcome  me,  he  being  one  of  papa's  old  friends  who  had 
dined  at  our  house  in  New  York. 

A  very  formal  luncheon  was  to  be  given  out  at  my 
uncle's  villa  on  the  Island  of  Amager,  after  driving 
through  the  court  of  kingly  statues  in  front  of  the  Winter 
Palace. 

That  next  day  proved  very  interesting.  We  were  in 
turn  passed  the  cream  to  pour  on  our  compote  or  fruit 
of  some  sort,  when  a  voice  praisingly  exclaimed :  "Ah ! 
she  is  my  own  darling  child — she  chose  the  right  kind  of 
cream — the  goat's  cream."  Unconsciously  had  my  hand 
taken  the  nearest  to  me,  of  the  two  silver  pitchers  with 
top  of  a  goat  on  one,  a  cow  on  the  other,  held  on  a  silver 
tray  at  my  side  by  one  of  their  lackeys  in  blue  coat,  light 
buff  vest,  gilt  buttons,  and  white  knee-breeches  holding 
them  toward  me  in  silence. 

So,  I  smiled  confusedly  at  Uncle  Lauritz  way  down  at 
the  end  of  the  table,  as  I  then  noticed  for  the  first  time 
the  goat  atop  the  chosen  cream  jug,  out  of  which  I  had 


In  Life's   Journey  127 

helped  myself.  That  seemed  to  drive  away  all  his  fears 
that  he  had  entertained  against  a  Danish  girl  who  had 
been  educated  in  New  York,  as  he  said.  I  wonder  how 
he  would  look  upon  the  present  license  which  the  young 
girls  now  are  allowed. 


128  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Mons.  Tietjen  planned  an  expedition  on  one  of  his 
steam-boats.  It  ran  all  day  and  all  night;  a  delightful 
trip  to  an  entire  mountain  of  real  chalk,  upon  the  top 
of  which  we  all  walked,  and  realized  in  a  measure  the 
vast  resources  therefrom,  also  its  value  and  uses  in  the 
world. 

The  wife  of  the  present  Chevalier  Kaufmann  at  the 
Danish  Court  (born  Fernanda  Holmblad,  sister  of  Count 
Lauritz  Holmblad,  my  cousin)  was  my  companion  in  the 
stateroom  allotted  to  me.  Mons.  Tietjen  seemed  to  take 
pleasure  in  singling  me  out,  and  putting  questions  of 
moment  relative  to  governmental  and  historical  matters 
for  me  to  answer. 

I  had  to  reflect  carefully  upon  my  answers,  for  they 
had  told  me  that  he  was  somewhat  of  a  power  and  a 
clever  member  of  their  Chamber  of  Deputies.  Julius  in- 
formed me  later  that  I  had  acquitted  myself  well  with 
Mons.  Tietjen,  who  had  said  :  "Your  cousin  always  reflects 
before  she  answers  my  questions,  and  answers  very  wisely 
and  satisfactorily."  So  I  smiled. 

Our  first  visit  was  to  my  precious  Tanta  Marie  ,out 
at  Amager,  where  she  wished  me  to  repair  with  my  sister 
and  her  husband  before  they  started  for  Stockholm  and 
Christiana. 

She  led  us  into  her  superb  rooms  of  rare  art  and  china. 

All  down  a  tall  cabinet  stood  thirty-two  figures  each 
a  foot  in  height,  baked  in  a  former  Queen's  special  Royal 
fabrique  (since  pulled  down).  These  figures  represented 
the  various  Danish  costumed  peasants  of  olden  times; 
most  interesting,  for  those  Danish  peasants  were  rich 


In   Life's   Journey  129 

and  their  clothes 'were  fine  in  colors  and  materials. 

Tante  presented  us  each  with  a  rare  gift  dater  1716-17, 
dated  by  mother  to  daughter  on  wedding  days.  Fine 
silver  sugar  dishes  with  flat  curved  handles,  beautiful 
engraved  silver  sifters. 

We  regretted  time  flew  so  swiftly.  The  equipage  was 
waiting.  My  cousin  in  full  uniform  called  for  me. 

My  sister  and  her  husband  were  to  follow  as  soon  as 
ready,  for  he  was  not  a  Dane  (that  race  is  trained  to  be 
punctiliously  on  time)  and  my  brother-in-law  was  in- 
clined to  linger  in  dressing. 

Off  I  was  driven  with  the  cockaded  postillions  holding 
their  finely-groomed  steeds  well  in  hand,  when  suddenly 
in  front  of  a  jewelers  we  stopped. 

"Constance,  you  never  wear  rings?" 

"No." 

"Well,  you  must  have  one,  it  is  the  custom  here."  He 
slipped  a  diamond  solitaire  on  my  hand,  which  the  clerk 
seemed  to  have  all  ready,  with  a  little  diamond  and  ruby 
guard. 

I  earnestly  demurred,  but  so  it  had  to  be  to  please  him. 

"Julius,  that  beard  must  come  off!"  I  had  said  the 
first  evening  when  he  came  to  meet  us.  And  lo!  that 
evening  his  chin  was  clean-shaven,  and  with  his  light 
brown  curled  mustache  I  found  myself  looking  up  very 
proudly  at  his  aristocratic  beauty  and  courtliness  of 
bearing.  He  led  me  again  to  the  carriage,  and  speedily 
arrived  at  the  dinner  party,  given  by  Minister  de  Bille 
and  his  magnetic,  attractive  wife  who  was  a  New  York 
lady. 


130  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

King  George  of  Greece  was  expected  to  arrive  in  Copen- 
hagen within  a  few  days  for  his  annual  visit,  and  Cousin 
Julius,  his  aide  (always  during  the  yearly  visit  of  His 
Majesty  from  Greece),  was  expected  to  be  at  King 
George's  side  daily  and  nightly.  They  loved  each  other 
like  brothers. 

At  that  dinner  I  well  knew  that  I  was  under  fire,  so 
that  I  had  to  weigh  well  my  answers  and  remarks;  for 
they  had  all  known  my  splendid  Danish  relatives,  and 
expected  myself  to  prove  a  worthy  descendant. 

I  always  awaited  approval  in  Julius'  eye,  or  a  nod — 
for  was^he  not  doubly  my  first  cousin,  as  Tanta  Marie 
Jirpiack  (Papa's  beautiful  sister,  herself  a  great  court 
diplomat  and  most  estimable)  was  married  to  her  own 
first  cousin  Estatsraad  Holmblad,  the  King's  Counsellor, 
I  told  my  Cousin  Julius  that  I  was  so  proud  of  him  that 
I  thanked  God  in  my  prayers  that  he  was  born  my 
cousin,  for  did  he  not  prove  equal  to  all  the  many  honors 
showered  upon  him?  So  young  and  vigorous  brained.  He 
was  president  of  the  Peoples  Night  School,  also  vice- 
president  of  this  and  of  that  institution.  President  of 
the  Suhr's  great  bank  of  Copenhagen.  When,  upon  his 
acceptance  of  this  last  honor,  his  brother-in-law  (who 
had  married  Julius'  "princess-typed"  sister  Therese) 
Count  Robert  Graverhorst  Lovenstjerne,  owner  of  the 
splendid  estate  "Wegeholm,"  remarked  to  me:  "Con- 
stance, Julius  has  all  these  honors  thrust  upon  him  now. 
There  will  be  nothing  left  for  him  to  receive  when  he  is 
forty  years  old." 


JULIUS   HOLMBLAD 

Called  the  Handsomest  Man  on  the  King's  Staff  and  Always  the  Chosen 
Companion  of  King  George  of  Greece  When  in  Denmark. 


In   Life's   Journey  133 

Then  Julius  came  to  me  and  in  a  little  annoyed  tone 
exclaimed :  "I  told  Robert — why  should  he  rebuke  me  for 
charging  myself  with  the  many  affairs  I  have  under- 
taken— do  I  not  perform  my  duties  satisfactorily?  You 
see,  Constance,  I  love  my  duties  and  never  tire."  And  so 
the  matter  rested,  though  at  forty-three,  from  over-work, 
his  heart  artery,  or  rather  the  flap  which  falls  over  the 
heart,  weakened  and  fell  occasionally  inside  instead  of 
outside,  causing  excruciating  suffering.  One  night,  in 
his  bank  office,  his  clerk  reported  that  Julius  stood  with 
his  back  against  the  wall,  arms  extended,  fighting  hard 
by  vigorous  breathing  to  cause  the  flap  to  strengthen  and 
drop  correctly  out  over  the  heart-valve.  Closing  his  pri- 
vate office  door,  that  the  clerk  should  not  see  him  suffer, 
he  had  at  five  in  the  morning  fought  his  last  brave  fight 
in  silence ! 

I  was  married  to  Archibald  Gracie  who  strongly  re- 
sembled Julius,  and  living  at  Staten  Island,  when  the 
crushing  news  came  to  me  from  across  the  waters. 
Julius  was  married  and  had  lost  his  own  and  only  little 
daughter,  five  years  old,  with  diphtheria.  As  had  also, 
my  cousin  Lady  Steele,  in  England,  lost  her  own  "Tottie" 
— five  years  of  age.  Each  having  a  tube  inserted  below 
the  fatal  closing  throat  web  and  each  had  succumbed, 
whereas  a  new  treatment  was  given  my  own  precious 
youngest  daughter,  Edith  Temple,  seven  years  old.  When 
our  giant  Dr.  William  Walser,  President  of  the  Quaran- 
tine Health,  tried  the  newest  system  on  Edith  (who  had 
developed  a  terrible  case  of  diphtheria  from  our  new 
house's  waste  pipes  built  lower  than  the  street  pipes  and 
filling  my  children's  basement  gymnasium  with  fumes), 
I  plunged  Edith  into  a  hot  bath  which  opened  her  pores, 
enabling  her  thus  to  breathe  instead  of  through  the  re- 
maining pin-hole  opening  of  the  fast  closing  throat  web. 


134  Personal  Experiences 

Dr.  Townsend  "pinioned"  her  arms, — after  a  hot  glass  of 
milk  which  she  slowly  imbibed — Walser's  long  fingers 
plunged  down  her  throat,  tore  the  entire  web  out,  and 
quickly  inserted  a  tube  through  which  the  child  readily 
breathed.  While  for  ten  days  the  poisonous  mucous 
passed  out  of  her  lips,  which  she  wiped  away  with  little 
squares  of  cheese  cloth  until  quite  well. 

Julius  had  received  photographs  of  my  Constance-Ulee, 
holding  beside  her  the  little  Edith  Temple,  both  so  hardy 
looking;  and  Julius  had  enviously  written:  "Constance, 
you  have  such  splendid  children!" 

Ah!  well,  one  of  the  great  lights  of  my  life  seemed  to 
go  out  at  the  news  of  his  having  left  this  world.  Some- 
times I  seem  to  feel  his  presence,  as  I  do  that  of  my 
wonderful  Archibald ;  of  my  adored  father  (whom  those 
two  both  greatly  resembled)  ;  my  mother;  my  Constance- 
Ulee,  and  dear  Miss  Ketellas  of  whom  I  dream  sometimes. 
She  was  so  unselfish  and  a  great  character,  so  good  to 
me,  and  chaperoned  me  devotedly  at  many  a  beautiful 
ball  given  by  the  Wells,  the  Rives  of  Washington  Square, 
the  Ward-McAllisters;  fancy  balls  at  Mrs.  Stuyvesant 
Fish's  the  Edward  Tailers,  and  the  James  Kernochans. 

Delmonico's  then  was  the  only  celebrated  "assembly" 
and  ballroom  building,  with  its  succession  of  long  pier 
glasses,  encircling  the  dancing  room,  around  which  it  was 
the  graceful  custom  of  the  numerous  couples  attired  in 
their  handsomest  (all  girls  wore  circular  trains  sweeping 
the  floor)  to  promenade  two  and  two  all  round  the  ball- 
room between  dances,  seeing  their  bright  reflections  as 
they  walked. 


MRS.    STYVESANT    FISH 

Daughter  of  Judge  Anthon,  the  latter  a  dear  friend  of  O.   W.   C.   Schack, 
Mrs.  Gracie's  Father. 


In   Life's   Journey  137 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Back  to  Denmark — a  party  to  Tivoli — wondeiful 
Tivoli ! 

The  Rauschbaum  first,  after  making  a  short  tour  to 
note  each  large  booth,  and  its  attractions. 

That  was  the  very  first  I  had  seen  of  the  swift  running 
boats  over  spring-boards  up  and  down  heights,  then  up 
again,  filled  with  people  in  mad  delight  at  the  very  daring 
of  it  and  exhilaration  'till  the  boats  came  to  their  stop- 
ping places. 

We  listened  to  concerts  of  perfectly  attuned  and  finely 
played  instruments,  watching  the  batons  of  their  leaders 
waving  time  in  the  rendering  of  Lizst,  of  Chopin,  of  Verdi 
Belline  and  Rossini,  in  his  Merry  Operas,  and  so  on.  The 
marvelous  cantatrices,  giving  their  concerts  in  the  can- 
vas-covered summer  tents.  Passing  on  to  a  fourth  booth 
to  find  the  delicious  afternoon  sandwiches  of  tiny,  raw 
fish,  seasoned  rare  cheeses,  finely  flavored  tea,  or  other 
beverages,  very  refreshing,  though  not  inebriating,  and 
away — looking  forward,  in  our  hopes,  to  many  more  such 
treats  of  an  afternoon.  The  evenings  passed  out  there 
were  quite  as  great  a  summer's  entertainment. 

Another  day — off  in  the  second  story  seats  in  the  forest 
trolley.  Long  seats  back  to  back,  extending  the  length  of 
the  car,  with  the  tree  branches  brushing  our  cheeks,  as 
we  went  out  to  the  bathing  place  "Marienbad,"  where 
one  had  a  fine  swim,  dressed,  walked  to  the  stone  cemented 
pyramid,  topped  with  growing  plants  and  flowers,  built  as 
a  tribute  to  the  great  English  Shakespeare's  character 
and  creation,  that  oft  visited  monument  named  "Ham- 
let's grave."  After  which  interesting  experience  one 
dines  in  their  respective  party,  amid  rich  foliage  of 


138  Personal  Experiences 

plants,  at  tables  well  served  by  uniformed  waiters,  with 
entrancing  strains  of  music  filling  one's  ears,  till  they 
must  fain  have  a  dance  in  the  ballroom  with  its  open 
windows,  before  the  homeward  trip  is  contemplated. 

The  next  day  out  to  the  palace  in  the  lake  where  the 
king  in  those  days  had  been  careful  of  the  kingdom's 
coffers.  He  had  a  strong  room  built  below  his  private 
study,  where,  in  the  floor,  was  a  moveable  square,  and  he 
would  pour  the  gold  down  into  the  room  below  for  safe- 
keeping. 

The  appointments  were  most  royal,  and  as  we  were  led 
into  the  magnificent  cathedral  adjoining,  a  baptism  of 
some  wonderful  child  was  taking  place. 

The  priest  was  in  fine  lace  and  crimson  robes,  while 
the  altar  was  shown  us  particularly  as  being  in  pure  ivory, 
a  marvel  of  art,  fine  work  and  beauty. 

Back  to  shore  we  were  conveyed,  and  gazing  as  we 
sailed  away  from  that  great  pile  of  architecture  in  the 
center  of  the  lake,  we  were  depely  impressed. 

Then  we  were  shown  the  cathedral  in  which  Robert 
Count  Gravenhorst  and  Cousin  Therese  Holmblad  were 
married.  Its  spiral  outside  staircase  pointed  out  to  me 
with  its  hundreds  of  steps  round  and  round,  I  dared  to 
walk  up  to  the  top  pinacle.  I  wound  up  those  steps,  never 
allowing  my  eyes  to  look  down  till  I  stood  aloft  in  triumph, 
gazing  over  that  most  truly  beautiful  land.  How  my 
heart  swelled  with  pride  as  I  viewed  it  and  felt  that  the 
blood  of  pure  noble  Danes  flowed  in  my  veins. 

Another  day  we  walked  within  and  up  the  great  tower 
of  broad  staircases  up  which  King  Frederick  drove  his 
four  horses  abreast,  so  said  the  legend.  It  is  told  as 
actual  fact,  and  I  firmly  believe  it,  since  I  inspected  that 
celebrated  Danish  wonder  of  construction  with  my  own 
eyes. 

The  building  is  in  the  heart  of  the  City  of  Copenhagen. 


MISS    CONSTANCE    SCHACK    AND    HER    COUSIN    JULIUS    HOLMBLAD    IN 
CHARLOTTENLUND,    DENMARK,    ON    A    PICNIC 


In   Life's   Journey  141 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Lo  Rosenberg  palace,  which  has  been  made  into  a 
museum  containing  most  valuable  collections  of  the  be- 
longings of  all  the  past  crowned  heads — dresses,  jewels, 
and  weapons. 

The^e  were  the  blood-stained  uniform,  covered  with 
lace,  and  accoutrements  of  King  Christian  II.  The  solid 
silver  arm-chair  with  high  back  and  flowered  edges,  set- 
tee, and  tall  standing  fire  screen,  all  wrought  in  fanciful 
designs  by  hand  in  the  solid  silver — wonderful! 

Scientists  have  pronounced  Denmark  possesses  the 
greatest  productions  and  results.  In  science,  most  scien- 
tific ;  in  arts,  most  glorious ;  in  music,  equal  to  the  loved 
Norwegian  composer,  Grieg,  whose  sweet  compositions  I 
memorized,  though  his  songs,  my  critic  Tante  Marie 
Holmblad  pronounced  cold  and  not  soul  inspiring. 

Charlottenbund  was  the  forest  "Tea  House,"  a  former 
summer  palace.  A  party  there  we  made — a  picnic,  too; 
where  brave  and  gallant  cousin  strained  his  knee  badly 
down  one  of  the  stoney  and  rather  sudden  declivities  in 
our  climbs  and  descents. 

I  searched,  and  found  a  white,  strong  stick  upon  which 
he  had  to  lean  all  day,  and  limp  sadly,  but  it  also  was  a 
day  of  instruction  through  a  massive  fortress,  gazing 
on  far  scenes,  from  the  old  fort  gun  holes. 

When  the  last  day  of  that  one  of  my  visits  to  Denmark 
arrived,  Julius  handed  me  that  stick  as  a  souvenir  of  the 
picnic.  He  had  had  it  beautifully  polished,  mounted  with 
a  deep  ferule  of  silver  at  the  bottom,  also  an  unscrewable 
raised  round  top  with  my  initials.  Beneath  the  unscrewed 
cover,  it  showed  the  original  rough  stick  slightly  split  as 
it  was  when  he  gratefully  accepted  "my  find"  and  had 
leaned  upon  it  in  his  pain  that  other  day. 


142  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

My  birthday  anniversary,  the  31st  of  August,  was  near, 
and  I  had  gone  over  to  visit  my  cousins  in  Sweden  on 
their  estate  "Wegeholm." 

Upon  entering  their  gates,  I  had  been  driven  in  under 
the  upper  floor  of  their  stone  castle,  and  alighting  with 
their  flunkies  in  attendance,  up  the  stone  steps  at  the 
side.  I  mounted  to  the  second  story  rooms,  built  in  a 
circle  with  glass-encased  windows  looking  down  from  the 
upper  circular  stone  corridors,  upon  that  inner  court  be- 
low, where  equipages  drew  up,  covered  from  storms. 

Then  I  was  shown  into  their  living  rooms.  Through  the 
royal  suite  retained  for  the  pleasure  of  His  Majesty, 
King  Oscar's  annual  visit  with  his  suite,  to  hunt  the 
splendid  antlered  stags  which  were  on  my  cousin's  pre- 
serves from  the  forest  down  to  the  sea.  Robert,  my  cou- 
sin, was  King  Oscar's  chamberlain. 

Their  ballroom  was  of  immense  length,  with  its  hand- 
paintings  of  cherubs  and  lovely  floating  angels,  over  ceil- 
ings and  over  doors  at  each  end.  Upon  its  polished  floors 
stood  a  grand  piano!  I  seated  myself  at  it  and  accom- 
panied him,  he  singing  operatic  arias  in  his  rare  tenor 
and  pure  resonant  tones,  while  he  and  she  stood  side 
by  side,  each  a  picture  of  beauty  in  height  and  coloring 
and  love,  and  grace ! 

I  used  to  watch  them  wending  their  way  arm  in  arm, 
through  the  shrubbery.  Always  lovers  together,  like 
Tante  Marie  and  Uncle  Lauritz ;  like  also  my  own  blessed 
father  and  mother. 

We  inspected  the  room  where  the  flax-linen  thread  had 
its  loom — women  by  the  year  weaving  sheets,  bed  and 
table  linen. 


In   Life's    Journey  143 

On  to  the  cheese  room,  with  shelves  filled  with  big, 
round  winter  cheeses. 

Into  the  cream-extracting  machine  room. 

Forward  we  moved  to  the  polished  brown  pigs  in  their 
stalls  in  a  row,  where,  odorless,  they  stood  and  awaited  the 
coming  flow  of  entirely  creamless  milk,  into  their  long 
loaded  troughs  for  their  beverage  night  and  morning. 

Such  fine  pure  cream  was  served  for  our  berries,  such 
luscious  hot-house  fruits  served  each  night  on  silver  sal- 
vers, while  Robert  and  Therese  played  their  organ  and 
piano  side  by  side. 

Beyond  this  the  dining  room  where  their  two  young 
sons  and  daughters  had  their  honored  turns  of  saying 
"grace"  before  we  began  each  meal. 

Their  peaches  grew  on  vines  trained  against  the  outer 
walls  of  the  green-house,  the  same  as  in  France — to  pro- 
tect the  fruit  against  winds  and  weather — the  flavor  of 
nectarines,  hot-house  grapes  and  plums  so  truly  luscious, 
were  fit  for  Lucullus ! 

Then  came  Saturday  night  when  we  three  walked  down 
the  boxwood  scented  path,  out  of  their  entrance  gates. 
There  a  sight  unique  and  unexpected  met  our  eyes. 

The  weekly  custom  was  for  the  peasants  on  the  estate, 
and  there  were  many  who  had  litle  cottages  along  that 
inside  road  toward  the  gate  (for  the  men  tilled  the  ground 
in  parcels,  rented  to  them  by  the  owner,  Robert,  their 
young  "father"  as  they  called  him.)  He  had  built  a  min- 
iature banking  house  for  them  and  he  taught  them  to 
save  and  bank  their  accounts,  and  when  the  harvests  were 
poor,  or  failed,  he  had  to  take  care  of  them  and  give  them 
sufficient  employment  to  repay  him  for  his  kind  provision. 

So  there  they  stood  in  their  best  holiday  velvets  and 
colored  embroidered  attire.  One  in  the  center  of  the 
circle,  with  his  violin,  awaited  their  "First  Lady  of  the 


144  Personal  Experiences 

Land"  Therese,  to  dance  with  her  lord  the  first  waltz, 
within  their  open  circle.  Following  which  they  began, 
while  we  delightedly  and  enjoyedly  watched  the  scene. 

At  9  P.  M.  a  horn  blew. 

Like  magic  they  turned,  vanished  almost  instantly  as 
though  none  had  been  there,  and  the  pretty  Saturday 
night's  peasants  dancing  party  was  over  until  the  next 
week. 


COUSIN  ROBERT   GRAVENHOVST   LOVENST.JERNE 
His    Castle    "Wegeholm.''      Chamberlain    to    His    Majesty,    King    Osca 
of  Sweden. 


In   Life's   Journey  147 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  following  day  Cousin  Julius  Holmbold  arrived  for 
the  coming  deer-stalking. 

We  all  sat  that  Sunday  night  back  of  the  piano  and 
organ  amid  musical  renderings  by  each  in  turn. 

I  was  begged  to  sing  an  English  song,  after  singing  in 
Danish,  as  Therese  had  taught  me  (after  outgrowing  the 
childish  ones  taught  by  my  father) .  My  Spanish,  French 
and  Italian  songs  had  pleased  them,  but  now,  it  must  be 
an  English  one! 

At  last,  I  gave  them  those  wondrous  words  of  self- 
abnegation  and  purest  love  by  an  unsuccessful  suitor  to 
his  ideal  of  womanhood  as  portrayed  in  "Resignation" 
with  the  glorious  harmonies  composed  for  it  by  Korbay 
(pronounced  Corbai)  the  Hungarian  composer,  and  sing- 
er, who  had  gone  to  Newport  when  I  was  there,  and 
taught  it  to  me.  It  ran  thusly : 

"RESIGNATION" 

I.       In  silence  would  I  suffer  only 

My  grief  thou  even  shouldst  not  guess 
For  not  one  tinge  of  melancholy 

Should  overcloud  thy  happiness  .... 
Near  thee,  my  lips  so  long  unbroken, 

My  grief  I  could  not  conquer,  quite ; 
My  eye  the  secret  thought  hath  spoken, 

Alas!  a  tear  brought  all  to  light! 
Once,  but  once,  I  fain  would  tell  thee 

How  very  dear  to  me  thou  art, 
How  I  shall  live  thy  faithful  lover 

As  long  as  beats  this  constant  heart. 


148  Personal  Experiences 

II.     No  single  word  shouldst  thou  reply; 

But  kindly  look  at  me  and  smile. 
Nay,  with  a  gentle  drooping  eye, 

Thou'll  stand  in  silence  still  awhile. 
Then,  would  I  rest  my  hands  on  thy  head, 

And  blessing  thee,  the  prayer  would  say 
That  God  may  bless  for  thee  the  quiet, 

Which  from  my  soul  thou  stolest  away. 
Once,  but  once,  I  fain  would  tell  thee 

How  very  dear  to  me  thou  art ; 
How  I  shall  live  thy  faithful  lover 

As  long  as  beats  this  constant  heart! 

As  I  was  concluding  these  thrilling  words  and  music 
Julius  rose  restlessly  walking  in  front  of  us  to  the  high 
shuttered  window  and  fussed  with  the  slats  to  hide  his 
emotion. 

Something  in  the  sing  had  stirred  the  depths  of  his 
souiful  heart,  and  all  were  silent! 

Then  Robert,  the  following  day,  begged  me  to  give 
him  a  copy — they  all  were  evidently  "taken  with  it." 

On  the  second  visit  which  I  paid  "Wegeholm"  before 
going  to  the  United  States  that  year,  Robert  showed  me 
those  verses  pinned  upon  the  wall  beside  his  desk,  say- 
ing: "I  love  my  Therese,  and  I  love  you  next,  and  those 
words  will  cheer  me,  till  you  Constance  (I  fear  and  feel 
you  may  never)  come  back." 

"Yes,  Robert,  I  promise,  I  know,  I  shall."  And  I  did, 
with  darling  mamma;  when,  she  was  honored  by  being 
given  His  Majesty's,  King  Oscar's,  apartments.  He  and 
his  suite  arrived  the  very  day  following,  and  my  third 
departure  from  beautiful  "Wegeholm"  which  (since 
Robert's  going  out  of  this  life,  on  one  New  Year's  Eve 
while  he  was  bestowing  his  last  blessings  upon  each  of 


In   Life's    Journey  149 

his  children,  and  upon  his  heart-rent  beloved  wife)  was 
sold  and  purchased  by  a  wealthy  American. 

I  still  have  my  cherished  memories.  An  old  lady  once 
remarked  to  me  "Life  would  not  be  worth  living  to  me, 
if  I  did  not  have  my  memories !" 

Our  faith  in  God,  and  our  memories  and  the  great 
boon,  "a  sense  of  humor,"  sustain  us  on  our  way  heaven- 
ward. 


150  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  morning  of  the  stag  hunt  broke  clear  and  sweet 
(quite  a  party  it  was  who  assembled  at  breakfast).  Every 
woman  at  the  left  of  the  seated  gentleman  had  her  sand- 
wich to  make  for  that  swain  to  carry,  well  wrapped,  to 
refresh  his  inner-man  while  hunting;  and  that  superb 
stag  which  they  caught,  all  had  a  shot  at  it. 

Venison  and  currant  jelly  we  had  ere  the  morning  of 
my  birthday,  when  I  descended  the  stairs  I  found  await- 
ing me,  after  the  family  hearty  greetings,  a  fine  old  gold 
lined  Sweedish  cup  with  base  of  Frederick  IV  coin.  An 
aqua-marine  (like  fine  opals)  cross,  mounted  in  gold,  and 
various  other  gifts. 

A  Sweedish  baron,  on  his  horse,  dashed  down  to  bid 
me  sad  "farewell,"  as  shortly  after  we  proceeded  by  boat 
to  Copenhagen  for  our  dinner-party. 

The  Chamberlain  and  Therese,  my  cousin  and  I,  were 
all  dressed  in  our  evening  attire  beneath  our  wraps,  and 
at  the  portals  of  the  doors  at  Amager,  the  welcome  guests, 
by  host  and  hostess,  Uncle  Lauritz  and  Tanta  Marie  Holm- 
blad  greeted  us.  He  in  his  blue-silk-lapelled  dress-coat 
and  decorations,  Tante  in  her  lace-covered  gown  and 
jewels  looked  her  handsomest. 

For  was  it  not  my  last  night  among  them,  and  they 
wished  me  to  carry  away  the  most  brilliant  memories, 
the  deepest  regrets  at  leaving  them. 

Gifts  were  handed  me:  a  large  black  and  gilder  four- 
tiered  photo-frame,  folding  up  in  tall  fashion,  contain- 
ing sixteen  valuable  colored  photographs  of  the  finely 
costumed  peasants  in  holiday  attire,  of  the  three  Norse 
countries. 


In  Life's   Journey  151 

A  real  antique — large  five-inch  gold  vinaigrette  on  a 
standing  base  with  heart-shaped  center  and  a  pink  ame- 
thyst. The  extra  top  opened  for  the  gold  or  silver  coin 
always  carried  therein  for  the  contribution  plate  at 
church,  whither  the  rich  Danish  peasants  of  former  years 
drove  in  their  carriages,  seated  upon  hair  stuffed  oblong 
hand-embroidered  mats.  One  of  which,  of  the  year  1763, 
was  presented  among  other  gifts  to  carry  to  New  York 
with  me,  and  is  nailed  up  over  my  doorway  each  winter 
in  Washington,  to  be/admired  and  appreciated. 

A  gilded  silver  n^aillon  necklace  had  been  ingen- 
uously inverted  by  Tante  Marie's  orders  to  her  jeweller. 
The  chain  was  tacked  round  a  crimson  velvet  frame  sur- 
rounding a  photograph  qf  my  father  now  hanging  in 
my  room. 

An  ingenious  device  of  a  movable  silver  scaled  fish 
completed  the  portable  tributes  of  their  affection,  while 
gorgeous  roses  filled  my  hands  and  were  worn  at  my 
belt.  Thus  was  I  escorted  to  the  brilliantly  lighted  table, 
where  wit  and  love  reigned  and  where  tears  and  regrets 
filled  our  eyes  and  hearts  at  last. 


LADY  STEELE,  BORN  MISS  ROSALIE  McCARTY 
Aunt   of   Mrs.    Constance   Gracie. 


GENERAL   SIR   THOMAS    STEELE 
General  in   Chief  of  the   Armies   in    Ireland,    Scotland   and   Wales. 


In   Life's    Journey  157 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  last  good-byes  from  Copenhagen  were  said.  The 
Swedish  and  Danish  cousins  all  gathered  to  unite  in  one 
request,  that  if  I  were  not  thoroughly  appreciated  by  my 
mother's  English  relatives,  and  should  feel  homesick,  I 
should  send  word,  and  either  Cousin  Robert  Lovenstjorne 
or  Julius  Holmblad  would  come  at  once  and  take  me  back 
to  my  father's  land. 

Also,  "Constance,  never  forget  that  Denmark  con- 
quered England."  Seven  times,  at  intervals,  had  I  that 

fact  impressed  upon  me. 

*  *  * 

I  met  with  a  thoroughly  cordial  welcome  among  my 
mother's  people.  They  had  gone  from  their  London  house, 
70  Eaton  Square,  quite  near  Buckingham  Palace,  to  Dub- 
lin, established  magnificently  in  "The  Royal  Hospital" 
mansion,  as  my  cousin,  Lady  Steele's  husband.  General 
Sir  Thomas  Steele  had  been  made  General  in  Chief  of 
all  the  forces  in  Ireland,  Scotland  and  Wales,  while  the 
Duke  of  Cambridge,  his  best  friend,  was  in  command  of 
all  the  forces  in  England,  Australia  and  India. 

The  headquarters  of  each  succeeding  General  in  Chief, 
as  Sir  Thomas,  are  always  in  that  beautiful  castle  called 
"The  Royal  Hospital."  Because  beyond  you  walk  out  into 
a  square  hollow  block  around  which  are  the  quarters  of 
the  veteran  soldiers — almost  every  day  a  funeral  occurred 
as  they  "passed  over" — and  one  could  hear  a  gun  fired 

from  the  distant  burying  ground. 

*  *  # 

Led  impressively  through  the  different  rooms,  1  was 
conducted  finally  into  the  great  oak-carved  ball-room  and 
up  to  the  raised  dais. 


158  Personal  Experiences 

Pointing  to  a  large  full-length  painting  at  the  back  of 
the  dais,  a  voice  spoke:  "This  is  the  portrait  of  King 
George  and  Queen  Anne  of  Denmark." 

"Yes,"  I  quickly  exclaimed,  "my  parting  injunction  as 
I  left  Danish  shores  was,  'Constance,  never  forget  that 
Denmark  conquered  England.'  " 

In  smiling  assent  they  said:  "And  a  mighty  race  of 
brave  men  and  soldiers  they  were  on  land  and  sea,  and 
you  are  the  little  Dane,"  they  playfully  added. 

I  certainly  felt  a  pride  in  being  a  Dane  heart  and 
soul. 

It  seems  that  Cousin  Rosalie  and  Sir  Thomas  had  both 
been  mourning.  She,  her  mother,  Aunt  "Jane,  Countess 
de  Dion  (as  she  always  had  signed  her  letters  to  mamma, 
her  sister-in-law),  and  Sir  Thomas,  five  months  before  I 
arrived,  had  lost  his  fine  brother,  Colonel  Steele,  of  the 
Cold  Stream  Guards. 

Their  six  months'  cessation  from  giving  official  enter- 
tainments (for  which  the  English  government  allows  a 
fixed  sum),  had  been  longer  than  the  Court's  allowance 
for  "three  month's  mourning." 

Therefore,  Her  Majesty,  Queen  Victoria,  so  adored  by 
all  her  subjects,  had  sent  a  mandate  to  Sir  Thomas  to 
that  effect,  and  Dublin  had  been  bidden  of  its  choicest 
residents  to  a  Ball!  So  I  was  to  be  in  the  midst  of  the 
delightful  excitement,  and  seven  hundred  and  twenty 
guests  came !  Twenty  cloaks  were  called  for  and  ex- 
changed in  the  dressing  room  the  following  morning. 
That  ball  was  a  wonder!  Many  beauties,  glorious  uni- 
forms. "The  Throned  Chairs"  as  they  stood  upon  that 
dais  at  the  top  of  the  ball-room  had  awaited  their  honor- 
able occupants. 

A  trumpet  sounded !  Down  one  aisle  came  General  Sir 
Thomas  and  Cousin  Rosalie  Steele,  disappearing  beyond 


In   Life's    Journey  159 

the  front  portals  as  was  the  custom.  They  met  "The  Red 
Earl  Lord"  and  Viscountess  Spencer,  on  the  first  step 
without,  then  up  the  aisle,  after  the  aides,  preceding  the 
procession. 

Exquisitely  attired,  Cousin  Rosalie,  arm  in  arm  with 
Lord  Spencer;  behind,  Sir  Thomas,  escorting  the  then 
gloriously  beautiful  Countess.  On  her  lovely  brown  wavy 
hair  shown  her  superb  diamond  tiara,  as  she  graciously 
smiled  upon  all  within  sight  of  her  glowing  eyes. 

In  the  blaze  of  light  and  burst  of  music  they  reached 
the  dais  and  stood  bowing,  then  seated  themselves. 

In  turn,  every  one  filed  up  and  were  greeted  by  him, 
the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland  and  Lady  Spencer. 

Suddenly  Mrs.  Captain  Mac — (whose  husband  was  one 
of  my  Sir  Thomas'  Aides  de  Camp),  came  hurriedly  to 
my  side,  whispering:  "Did  you  see  that  Captain  Mac — 
had  to  drag  Lord  Clourmell  down  from  the  dais?  His 
head  was  almost  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  Countess  as  he, 
the  noted  sherry-tipler,  had  been  conducted  to  the  pan- 
try!" 

All  was  over  in  a  moment,  and  "on  with  the  dance,  let 
joy  be  unconfined"  was  the  order  of  the  night. 

Lady  Steele's  chef  had  taken  two  weeks  to  prepare  the 
pastry  forms,  etc.,  etc.;  but  it  was  a  famous  feast  and 
ball,  while  all  made  merry  with  grace  and  moderation 
until  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


"THE  RED  EARL"   VISCOUNT  SPENCER 
Lord   Lieut,   of   Ireland. 


VISCOUNTESS    SPENCER 
Wife  of  Lord   Lieutenant  of  Ireland.      Given   Me  by   Her  at   Dublin   Castle. 


In   Life's    Journey  165 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Now  came  the  Dublin  Court  presentations  at  the  Castle, 
where  Queen  Victoria  was  represented  by  Lord  Spencer, 
and  not  Lady. 

His  office  is  to  kiss  the  cheek  of  every  lady  presented, 
young,  middle  or  old  of  age. 

My  court-train,  four-yards  regulation  length,  was 
upon  my  arm ;  I  had  known  how  to  catch  it.  After  the 
presentation  when  one  of  the  aides  has  to  gather  its  end 
in  his  hand,  and  fling  it  dexterously  aiming  at  your 
arm,  which  you  extend  in  anticipation,  and  fail  to  catch 
it  at  your  peril! 

Being  with  my  favored  party  in  the  small  blueroom,  we 
were,  of  course,  ushered  in  first.  Our  part  was  soon  car- 
ried through  after  I  entered  the  grand  presentation  room, 
and  heard  each  aide  on  the  walk-up  calling  out  my  name 
till  I  reached  Lord  Spencer. 

Sure  enough,  as  he  took  my  hand  in  his,  he  bent  low 
his  head  and  imprinted  the  predicted  kiss  upon  my  cheek ; 
then  smiled  graciously.  My  hand  was,  in  turn,  taken  by 
Countess  Spencer  and  pressed  to  give  me  courage,  for 
she  was  so  fond  of  my  cousin,  Lady  Steele,  that  she  felt 
partial  to  me. 

We  were  then  allotted  seats  facing  the  throne.  Amid 
the  rows  of  seated  dames  who  were  watching  the  suc- 
cession of  presentations,  arose  a  howl,  and  turning,  a 
lady  not  far  from  me  rolled  up  her  eyes  in  agony,  then 
fainted !  Quickly  she  was  lifted  and  carried  out  and  up 
the  castle  staircase.  Further  tradition  sayeth  not,  but  we 
all  felt  for  her,  and  what  she  missed! 


166  Personal  Experiences 

The  pomp  and  ceremony  were  most  interesting  and 
very  similar  to  the  presentations  at  Buckingham  Palace. 

The  following  day  was  cool,  and,  as  always  each  after- 
noon at  5  P.  M.  many  of  the  gentry  and  aides-de-camp 
came  in  to  Lady  Steele's  for  the  usual  refreshments,  ex- 
claiming as  they  rubbed  their  hands  together  English 
fashion:  "I  must  have  my  tea  and  bread  and  jam,"  at 
which  I  always  had  to  inwardly  smile. 

Cousin  Rosalie  confided  to  me  that  one  advantage 
granted  to  her  in  her  position  was  that  she  never  was 
expected  to  return  a  single  one  of  the  visits  of  her  callers ; 
unless  they  were  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  his  Lady,  and  the 
ladies-in-waiting — yet,  all  came  to  her! 

It  came  to  pass  that  Cousin  Rosalie  was  giving  a 
dinner  party  to  His  Lordship.  She  asked  me  if  I  would 
be  pleased  to  accompany  her  shopping  for  its  prepara- 
tion. Off  together  we  were  driven  to  the  fruiterers  for 
pineapples;  a  pound  apiece,  which  she  selected  in  num- 
ber. Thence  for  plover-eggs,  a  shilling  a  piece,  and  of 
which  she  had  three  on  each  plate  upon  a  bit  of  toast. 
They  hard-boil  them,  shell  them,  and  lo !  they  are  bluish- 
white,  the  size  of  one-third  of  a  hen's  egg — a  great  deli- 
cacy and  delicious!  Other  delightful  supplies  ordered, 
she  remarked :  "Now,  we  will  drive  to  the  iron-mongers." 
It  was  what  the  United  States'  people  call  "the  hardware 
shop."  There  forms  of  tins,  etc.,  were  purchased.  As 
I  stepped  forward,  I  tripped  on  one  of  two  girls'  heels, 
saying  "Excuse  me."  A  mimicking  voice  sounded :  "Ex- 
cuse me!  How  American!"  Lady  Steele  laughed  and 
said:  "The  correct  words  are  "Beg  Pardon"  with  the 
ending  inflection  upward."  So  the  day  went  on  till  night 
came. 


In   Life's   Journey  167 

We  all  descended  attired  in  our  daintiest,  and  the 
guests  assembled.  Finally  the  procession  moved  toward 
the  banquet  room. 

On  one  side  of  me  sat  Lord  Clour mell  (poor  soul,  his 
sherry-tiding  took  him  off  some  years  ago)  ;  Captain 
Harmond,  Lord  Spencer's  aide  on  my  left.  It  was^ery 
brilliant  and  witty  feast  of  reason,  and  flow  of  soui,  as 
well  as  of  delicious  courses.  We  were  obliged  to  await 
the  rising  of  Lord  Spencer  who  led  the  recession  with 
Cousin  Rosalie  to  the  drawing  room ;  second  only,  walked 
Lady  Spencer  with  Sir  Thomas,  and  the  couples  followed, 
two  and  two,  all  bowing  in  front  of  the  "Red  Earl"  so 
dubbed  for  his  auburn  colored  wavy  hair  and  beard,  cut 
square. 


168  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XL. 

The  first  of  the  Castle  balls  (all  of  which  we  attended 
that  season)  was  coming  off  and  Sir  Thomas'  aides  had 
become  acquainted  with  me.  As  I  was  being  put  into  my 
tulle  ball  gown  (here  and  there  dotted  with  lovely  crimson 
silk  jacqueminot  roses)  and  satin  slippers  (with  remark- 
able toes  going  into  an  absolute  point  which  Aunt  Rosalie 
had  insisted  upon  my  accepting  from  her),  a  box  came 
up,  with  five  gardenias  and  their  leaves  woven  into  a 
straight  bar,  as  was  the  fashion  then  at  their  English 
florists. 

Bessie,  my  pretty  and  snappily  witty  cousin,  walked 
into  my  room  with  a  similar  box,  exclaiming:  "Was  it 
not  dear  of  Captain  So  and  So,  to  send  you  and  me  these 
lovely  bands  of  gardenias?" 

"What  do  you  do  with  them?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  tack  them  sideways  from  your  shoulder  down." 

"How  odd,"  I  remarked. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "I  think  it  far  better  than  when  1 
was  over  in  Newport  at  a  grand  luncheon,  where  a  bou- 
quet at  each  plate  was  afterwards  pinned  by  each  girl 
on  the  side  of  their  stomach!" 

Then  we  both  burst  out  laughing  and  decorated  our 
respective  corsages  with  said  fragrant  gardenias. 

Into  the  carriage  we  were  placed,  and  out-riders  on 
horses  with  the  clanking  of  their  scabbards  and  drawn 
swords,  and  two  others  behind  fully  mounted,  escorted  our 
equipage  in  safety  back  and  forth  from  the  castle  as  they 
did  for  each  successive  ball  there  given. 

Over  from  London  had  come  Lord  and  Lady  Randolph 
Churchill,  sprightly  Lady  Cornwallis  West  (and  her 


AICT   W.    HARMOND 
Captain   and    Aide   of   Lord    Spencer. 


In  Life's   Journey  171 

sister),  saying:  "I  told  the  dressmaker  to  do  what  she 
could  for  my  young  sister  with  such  a  figger."  I  thought 
the  younger  sister  was  sweet,  and  most  modest,  like  a 
daffodil. 

Many  notable  personages,  all  of  us  standing  in  the 
dressing  room  together,  chatting  unconcernedly.  Then, 
we  started  and  entered  the  ball,  going  through  the  uni- 
form presentations. 

I  (from  force  of  my  father's  training  in  reading  the 
diplomatic  news  and  court  proceedings),  had  made  a 
practice  of  always  going  through  the  little  printed  after- 
noon paper  of  whatever  question  had  come  up  daily  for 
discussion  and  disposal  by  Lord  Spencer  in  his  office. 
So,  of  course,  I  was  not  lacking  of  interest  when  he  would 
join  me  and  laugh  with  me  over  many  of  his  subjects 
handled  during  that  particular  day. 

When,  later,  Captain  Harmond,  his  blunt,  square-headed 
aide,  joined  me  with  the  question:  "Pray,  young  lady, 
may  I  know  what  you  find  to  entertain  the  Earl  so  well?" 

"Oh,  we  always  chat  over  the  points  which  he  scores 
in  his  official  debates,  and  questions  of  moment  of  which 
1  apprise  myself  each  afternoon  in  the  'Daily  Budget.'  " 

"Ha,  ha !  that's  the  secret !"  he  exclaimed. 

Then  the  first  quadrille  started,  and  I  was  honored.  I 
danced  right  opposite  Lady  Spencer  in  her  set;  she  was 
such  a  beautiful,  queenly  and  gracious  being  to  gaze  at, 
as  she  smiled  encouragingly,  chassaying  back  and  forth. 

That  castle  supper,  and  our  special  group,  as  we  sat 
at  our  long,  narrow  sociable  table!  That  music,  as  I 
watched  my  sweet  Cousin  Bessie  dancing  every  dance ! 

And  the  polka !  with  the  two  hundred  couples ;  two  and 
two,  regularly  stepped  forward  two,  then  back  two  steps, 
all  the  way  up  the  square  ball-room,  in  regular  order,  two 
and  two  across  the  square.  Then  down  the  other  side, 


172  Personal  Experiences 

always  in  regular  order,  and  a  hollow  square  in  the  center. 

It  was  an  unusual  sight  for  one  who  had  seen  a  ball- 
room in  New  York  where  bumpity-bump,  and  the  polka 
dancers  went  every  way,  with  no  order  of  regularity  in 
their  couples. 

"Bessie,  you'll  have  heart  trouble.  You  are  so  pleased 
at  the  fact  that  you  danced  every  dance  straight  through, 
and  it  is  strenuous  work  with  those  quick  steps !" 

Many  sought  her,  but  she  exclaimed:  "No,  I  am  the 
granddaughter  of  the  Duke  of  Manchester,  my  own 
mother  was  Lady  Emily  Montague,  yet  I  would  not  marry 
one  of  the  English  aristocracy;  they  haven't  a  stitch  of 
character  left.  But  I  wish  I  were  the  belle  that  you  are, 
Constance,  in  favor  writh  the  Lord  Lieutenant  and  Count- 
ess Spencer.  You  are  clever  to  post  yourself  on  all  the 
Dublin  diplomatic  procedures. 

And  we  laughed  unconfinedly  and  freely. 


MISS   ELIZABETH   MONTAGUE   STEELE 
As   She   Was   at   the    Balls    in    Dublin    Castl?. 


In   Life's   Journey  175 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

Then  came  the  Punchestown  races. 

We  started  out  in  the  four-in-hand  coach.  Reaching 
the  large  enclosure,  and  well  placed,  we  eagerly  watched 
young  Featherstone-Haugh  win  the  first  race  with  his 
jockey  on  the  fine  mare.  Then  the  second  race  came  on, 
his  steed  stumbled,  fell,  broke  his  shoulder  and  had  to  be 
shot. 

There  was  a  tear  in  Featherstone-Haugh's  eye  as  he 
passed  with  his  dog  at  his  heels.  I  was  subsequently 
taken  across  the  field  and  lifted  up  on  the  mounds,  and 
stood  on  one  of  the  two  which  constitute  what  is  known 
as  "the  double  jump,"  I  saw  and  counted  seventeen  jockies 
on  mounts  of  rare  beauty  coming  at  this  very  jump.  It 
was  a  thrilling  hour! 

I  watched  several  jockies  who  whispered  and  swerved 
out,  as  the  rest  came  straight  toward  the  mound  on  which 
we  were  standing.  Pretty  spryly  we  jumped  down  to  one 
side  and  gazed  in  awe  at  the  graceful  double- jumpers 
and  winners. 

A  gorgeous  day — an  excitement  in  the  air,  and  redfern- 
gowned  smart  looking  ladies  with  well-groomed  notables, 
formed  a  picture,  indeed,  to  carry  in  my  memory! 

Sir  John  and  Lady  Power  had  asked  my  cousin  to  lend 
me  for  a  visit  to  them,  as  I  was  invited  to  "Fairy  House," 
a  private  race-course  where  Lord  Spencer's  coach  and 
ours,  the  Power's  four-in-hand  coach,  were  the  only  two 
there. 

I  have  a  huge  grouped  photograph  taken  of  our  party 
on  their  coach.  I,  in  my  smart  fitting  redfern  brown 
cloth  and  crimson-front  vest,  with  little  smoked  buttons 


176  Personal  Experiences 

on  either  side,  holding  it  snugly  from  neck  to  tapering 
waist. 

Those  races  were  all  the  more  thrilling  to  me,  as  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland  and  Countess  Spencer  singled 
me  out  to  bestow  some  of  their  kindly  converse  and  courte- 
sies upon  me. 

Sir  John  Power,  I  must  remark,  had  a  most  attractive 
high-bred  Irish  brogue,  to  which  I  found  myself  listen- 
ing, which  later  I  caught  myself  unconsciously  imitat- 
ing. 

His  beautiful  Hebe-like,  tall  and  slender  wife,  and 
little  five-year-old  girl  trotting  beside  her,  were  walking 
behind  us.  When  distinctly  came  her  remark  to  her 
escort:  "My  little  girl  has  such  a  brogue,  and  I  cannot 
fancy  where  she  gets  it." 

I  turned  to  see  if  she  were  joking;  but,  no;  quite 
seriously.  She  was  entirely  unconscious  of  her  very  own 
Sir  John's  lovely  brogue — never  had  noticed  it  until  I 
called  her  attention  to  it.  We  had  fine  trips  upon  that 
coach  on  my  ideal  visit  and  went  all  through  the  wonder- 
ful Ginness  Breweries  (for  Sir  John  was  a  Ginness). 
His  elder  brother  was  then  Lord  Ardelon,  a  fine  man, 
created  a  noble  for  his  beneficient  gifts  to  the  church. 

I  visited  for  two  nights  over  the  week-end,  at  Si:' 
Edward  Grey's  castle. 

Escorted  up  the  palatial  stairways,  lined  with  full 
length  oil  painted  panels  of  their  family  ancestors  and 
ancestresses.  I  certainly  was  impressed  by  the  time  I 
was  led  at  night  to  my  room  by  several  of  the  lady  guests 
who  wished  to  see  me  snugly  tucked  in  the  four-poster 
bedstead  with  its  footboard  running  around  it.  A  means 
of  not  overstretching  one's  limbs  in  clambering  up  to  the 
height  of  its  mattresses  from  the  floor.  They  were  all 
pumping  me  about  life  in  New  York,  and  my  impressions 


178  Personal  Experiences 

of  my  wonderful  home  with  my  cousins  in  Dublin,  when 
a  knock  sounded  at  my  huge  bedroom  door. 

My  trunk,  I  omitted  to  state,  had  miscarried,  and  for 
the  famous  dinner  one  of  the  young  girls,  even  more 
slender  than  I  was  at  that  time,  had  loaned  me  her  corn- 
colored  gown. 

In  those  days,  they  squeezed  in  their  English  waist- 
lines to  look  like  a  wasp.  So  I  had  to  gasp  as  I  gratefully 
donned  that  gown,  for  I  was  placed  in  the  seat  of  honor 
on  the  left  of  the  host. 

I  hardly  dared  to  breathe  though  endeavoring  to  smile 
and  respond  quite  unconcernedly  to  all  sprightly  remarks, 
or  badinage  as  it  flew  back  and  forth  from  the  delightful 
guest*  and  our  host. 

I  diverged  from  the  scene  that  night  at  my  bedroom 
door. 

Two  flunkies  in  full  uniform,  similar  to  those  at  my 
aunt's  villa  in  Denmark,  stood  like  wooden  statues,  their 
eyes  unblinking,  holding  between  them  by  each  handle,  my 
missing  steamer  trunk. 

Forward!  They  marched  to  the  left  of  the  blazing 
fire  and  deposited  it  silently  beside  the  fireplace.  Then 
military  fashion,  out  they  walked  and  the  silence  was 
broken  by  "Oh,  do  open  your  box,  and  let  me  see  your 
gown."  But  I  was  too  anxious  to  say  "goodnight,"  clam- 
ber into  bed  and  to  sleep — "To  sleep,  perchance  to  dream." 

They  had  said  some  people  pronounced  the  house 
haunted  by  a  wandering  soul,  their  ancestors.  Ah !  How 
could  they  believe  in  aught  but  vivid  dreams,  which  some- 
times come  to  us  before  the  sleeping  earthly  body  is 
aroused  to  daily  life  again,  and  in  memory  we  feel  that  it 
was  reality ! 

I  believe  that  while  the  body  rests  and  sleeps — only 
then,  can  our  souls  meet  the  souls  of  our  beloved  ones. 


In  Life's   Journey  179 

Who  are  only  permitted  to  come  to  us  when  danger  is 
near  us,  so  that  they  may  strengthen  us  to  resist  impend- 
ing evil,  by  preparedness.  Or  to  strengthen  us  against 
temptations  which  may  assail  us. 

God  gives  man  strength  equal  to  his  manhood  to  resist 
temptation  if  they  listen,  stop  and  heed  in  time,  even  as  is 
given  to  girls. 

Womanhood  alone  should  not  hold  up  the  standard  of 
purity  and  honor! 

That  is  why  this  wave  of  suffrage  has  swept  through 
the  indignant  women,  with  a  righteous  contempt  of  weak, 
debased  and  oft  time,  bullying  man.  Who  has  "fallen 
from  his  high  estate"  by  being  taught  that  "every  young 
fellow  must  sow  his  wild  oats'"  and  be  nasty  before  win- 
ning some  pure,  unsuspecting  young  wife.  To  defile  her 
too,  and  subtly  convince  her  that  all  men  are  alike,  be- 
cause of  his  own  unwarrantable  sins  of  the  past,  present 
and  future,  only  too  often! 

Thus,  thus  has  spread  the  contempt  for  many  a  hus- 
band and  the  thraldom  felt  therefrom.  A  desire  develops 
to  rise  above  this  degenerate  mate.  Psychology  finds  that 
the  father  element  born  in  them,  gifted  by  some  error  of 
conception,  causes  them  to  rise  above  the  traits  of  the 
mother  born  in  their  weaklings. 

Also  that  girls  should  be  taught  the  falsity  that  all 
men  are  alike,  irrespective  of  their  strong  mentality. 
That  they  must  be  considered  as  weak  sensualists,  apart 
from  their  often  great  parts  in  the  world's  affairs. 

Whereas,  with  their  greatness,  thanks  be  to  our  Hea- 
venly Father,  they  are  given  the  strength  to  resist  temp- 
tation !  And  woman  should  be  their  ideal  to  inspire  them 
to  obtain  to  the  highest  standard. 


180  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

From  Lady  Poweis  I  returned  to  the  Royal  Hospital 
most  happy  to  be  with  my  own  people. 

The  time  was  growing  short. 

The  last  of  the  castle  balls  had  been  enjoyed  and  a 
thrilling  invitation  had  come  for  me  to  attend  the  great 
and  favored  dinner  of  foity  odd,  at  the  "Vice  Regal 
Lodge"  in  Kilmainham  Park,  where  the  Lord-Lieutenant 
and  Countess  Spencer  had  removed  for  the  summer,  and 
Dublin  Castle  was  correspondingly  closeci. 

Kilmainham  Park  had  afforded  me  exciting  rides  with 
Sir  Thomas  and  Bessie.  I  mounted  upon  one  of  the  tall 
Royal  Dragoons  Guards'  horses,  sixteen  hands  high,  and 
away  we  would  start,  as  one  is  freely  permitted  to  ride 
up  and  over  the  hills  and  downs  of  the  park.  Many  a 
ride  had  I  revelled  in.  Oh!  I  could  have  shouted  with 
glee  at  its  sport! 

Kilmainham  Prison  was  just  without  our  Royal  Hos- 
pital gates,  and  our  sentry  boxes  were  scattered  at  equi- 
distances  around  our  splendidly  kept  grounds  and  path- 
ways. 

Many  a  night  beneath  my  great  domed  and  stain- 
glassed  windows  (which  I  had  observed,  extended  from 
the  floor  of  the  dining  room  below,  up  through  my  floor  to 
the  top  of  my  own  bedroom — at  that  point,  the  floor  was 
allowed  to  cross  unattached  to  aught,  until  at  each  side  of 
those  windows,  again  the  plaster  and  beams  sustained 
said  floor  with  marvelous  masonry).  As  I  lay  silent  and 
pondering  in  the  darkness,  I  listened  to  the  pacing  of  our 
sentrymen ;  and  peered  down  at  them  patrolling  in  their 


LADY  JOHN  POWER 
In  From  a  Bide  to  Hounds,  Returning  My  Visit  at  Her  Castle,  County  Wexford. 


In  Life's   Journey  183 

uniforms,  guns  on  their  shoulders,  through  "the  watches" 
against  any  escaping  prisoners  of  state  or  murder. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  murderous  assaults  by  the  stone- 
cutter. I  forget  his  name  and  the  band  of  lawless  plot- 
ters, who  drew  for  the  number,  to  assassinate  the  inno- 
cent Lord  Cavendish  and  Sir  John  Burke  as  they  were 
walking  homeward  at  dusk  through  Kilmainham  Park. 
And  the  lot  fell  upon  that  same  stonecutter,  who  (it  was 
learned  through  detectives),  had  gone  to  confession  with 
his  wife  and  boy;  then  leaving  them,  promptly  hied  him 
to  the  spot  where  their  lordships  daily  passed. 

He  had  to  have  the  unoffending  victims  of  that  band's 
political  grudge  pointed  out  to  him,  and  behind  them  he 
slunk  and  gave  the  deadly  blows. 

Those  were  the  sort  of  men  confined  in  our  Dublin 
prison.  A  shot  had  indeed  been  fired  even  at  Lord  Spen- 
cer on  his  daily  horseback  rides  through  "Dublin  Town," 
but  his  bravery  and  geniality  had  so  endeared  him.  He 
himself  was  fearless  and  surely  God  protected  him. 

When  they  drove  out,  his  Countess  always  sat  in  the 
carriage,  for  she  so  dearly  loved  to  protect  him  better 
perchance  from  murderous  hearted  prowlers. 


184  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

The  evening  of  the  state  dinner  arrived.  The  equipage 
was  waiting  as  I  donned  for  the  last  time  my  lovely  nile- 
green  tulle,  with  moss  rosebuds  dotted  here  and  there 
among  its  billowy  folds,  with  a  few  tucked  aside  of  my 
hair,  always  waved  from  my  brow  to  the  nape  ol  my 
neck,  and  my  thick  braid  with  its  ends  doubled  back  and 
woven  into  a  finish,  made  it  thick  all  through  ending  in  a 
circle  round  my  head  much  as  I  wear  it  now.  Off  we 
were  driven  into  that  richly  wooded  beautifully  laid  out 
park. 

"To  the  Vice-Regal  Lodge." 

Sir  Thomas  never  looked  better — in  full  uniform,  sword 
and^sh — the  breast  of  his  gold  braided  coat  covered  with 
many  handsome  decorations  for  glory  attained  in  the 
Cold  Stream  guards,  on  fields  of  battle  in  honorable  war- 
fare— man  to  man — hand  to  hand,  skill  and  honor  to  the 
vanquished  as  to  the  victor. 

Yes,  none  of  this  Hun,  wild  Indian,  "stab  you  stealthily 
in  the  back,"  and  ten-pin  strikes,  upon  unsuspecting  sol- 
diers, of  warm  human  flesh  from  far  unsighted  distances 
and  ambush ! 

When  bullets  fly,  and  truly  like  ten-pins,  down  fall  men 
whose  bosoms  had  thrilled  with  anticipated  glory  in  the 
hope  of  a  real  fight  and  chance  for  life  and  promotion  with 
honor ! 

Alighting  at  the  summer  castle,  as  it  was,  and  ushered 
formally  into  the  salon,  after  making  our  courtesies,  Lord 
Spencer  came  to  me  and  confided  an  interesting  incident 
of  the  day,  namely,  that  pretty  Mme.  Marie  Rose,  wife  of 
Mapleson,  the  manager  of  Grand  Opera,  had  sent  a  note 


In   Life's   Journey  185 

to  him  requesting  the  privilege  of  coming  to  the  Vice 
Regal  Lodge  after  the  grand  dinner,  which  she  learned 
was  to  be  given  tonight.  And  could  she  be  allowed  to 
sing  there?  His  Lordship  told  me  his  answer  was  "Only 
a  private  dinner,  and  regrets  that  it  would  not  be  in 
order." 

"A  second,  and  a  third  beseeching  note  of  request,  and 
he  had  yielded — and  that  she  was  coming." 

Before  the  long,  light  day,  in  the  month  of  May,  had 
gone  out,  I  was  led  to  a  window  of  their  back  drawing 
room.  And  from  that  window,  where  they  pointed  down 
through  the  park  to  a  certain  spot,  I  was  told  that  there 
was  where  the  stonecutter  had  cut  down  the  lives  of  Lord 
Cavendish  and  Sir  John  Burke.  And  that  Lady  Caven- 
dish, at  her  sorrowful  request,  had  been  granted  the  per- 
mission for  a  portrait  painter  to  paint  in  oils,  that  the 
sad,  sad  scene  revived.  And  from  that  window  to  possess 
it  as  the  last  spot  where  had  stood  her  Lord  and  lover- 
husband,  innocent  of  all  wrong. 

Led  into  the  gorgeously  illumined  dining  room,  I  was 
entranced  at  the  dignity  of  age,  with  the  jewels  of  the 
ladies,  blended  with  beauty  and  the  simplicity  of  a  few 
young  people  seated  at  the  wonderfully  appointed  table, 
making  a  dazzling  scene. 

The  vista  from  my  end  of  the  table  was  all  that  I  might 
have  dreamed. 

Strains  of  tender  music  from  finely  strung  instruments 
held  my  ear.  Unseen  by  my  eyesight  I  turned  to 
note  that  at  my  left  was  a  large  folding  doorway.  The 
width  within  it  had  a  very  long  box  out  of  which  had 
grown  luxurious  Ivy  over  an  entire  wire  net.  From  be- 
hind that  came  those  lovely  strains  "like  linked  sweetness 
long  drawn  out,"  which  made  a  tender  undercurrent  and 
accompaniment  to  the  many  voices,  whose  modulations 


186  Personal  Experiences 

were  trained.  I  observed  not  to  overtop  the  sounds  of 
those  musical  instruments. 

The  dinner  (my  last  "in  dear  Ould  Dublin'"),  had  to 
come  to  an  end. 

After  reassembling  in  the  larger  drawing  room  Mme. 
Marie-Rose  appeared — rich  in  coloring,  and  decorated 
with  jewels  "till  you  could  not  rest"  as  the  slang  phrase 
goes.  And,  led  to  the  piano,  the  preparatory  chords  of 
Robert  Le  Diable  rang  out  from  the  piano  by  her  accom- 
panist. 

Then  came  her  voice ! 

She  rent  the  air  with  the  agonized  tones  of  one  who 
yearned  for  "Robert  toi  que  j'aime,"  till  the  shrieks  for 
his  absence,  the  longing  for  him  to  return  from  no  one 
could  guess  where ;  the  flinging  of  her  vibrating  figure 
and  heaving  bosom  produced  its  effect  upon  the  wounded 
ears  of  a  tender  audience. 

The  room  was  too  small  for  the  sounds  which  displaced 
much  air!  Window  panes  did  not  crack  as  some  have, 
when  the  grand  voice  of  Mme.  Lilly  Lehmann  tried  it  in 
an  ordinary  sized  ball  room.  Some  of  the  tympanums  of 
our  guests'  ears  did  almost  crack — applause  of  course — 
whenever  there  is  a  foreign  element. 

North  Americans  in  the  United  States  have  not,  many 
of  them,  wakened  up  to  that  necessary  and  expected  en- 
thusiasm and  hand-clapping  which  all  artists  yearn  for, 
and  are  dampened  in  their  ardor  and  efforts  to  please  the 
cold,  unresponsive  yet  earnest  listeners  of  this  young 
country. 

Odd,  too,  but  that  is  bound  to  develop  in  this  grand 
amalgamated  race  and  nation. 

His  Lordship  advanced  to  me,  and  asked :  "Miss  Schack, 
would  you  greatly  object  to  giving  us  a  song  yourself?" 
I  hesitated. 


JULIAN  MCCARTY  STEELE 

Now   General   Steele. 


CHARLES  MONTAGUE  STEELE 
At    the    Royal    Hospital,    Dublin.      Now    Colonel    Steele. 


In   Life's    Journey  191 

I  looked  at  Sir  Thomas  planted  at  the  head  of  the  room 
in  all  his  superb  beauty  and  stature.  Evidently  his  per- 
mission had  been  asked  and  granted,  so  I  took  courage, 
pondering  swiftly  in  my  mind  that  if  I  sang  in  Spanish 
as  taught  me  by  General  Agramontes'  son  of  Cuba,  that 
lovely  song  "La  Paloma"  (the  Dove — it  means) ,  I  might 
not  have  any  comparison  drawn  between  me  and  the 
professional  artist.  I  modestly  turned  to  the  piano,  gave 
the  English  explanation  so  pretty,  then  sang  out  richly  in 
Spanish  that  rythmic  aria. 

They  were  all  kind  and  tolerant  of  youth,  prolonging 
their  applause,  and  many  coming  forward  to  press  my 
hand,  caused  me  to  look  up. 

Theze,  like  a  statue  stood  Sir  Thomas,  his  eye  flashing 
his  fine  nostrils  dilating,  and  I  saw  that  he  who  had  in- 
deed been  so  good  and  hospitable  to  me,  was  gratified  at 
my  having  acquitted  myself  with  credit. 

Lord  and  Lady  Spencer  were  simply  too  sweet  for 
words,  and  inwardly,  as  usual,  I  sent  a  soft  blessing  to 
my  far-away  adorable  mother  who  had,  with  papa,  in- 
spired me  to  study  attentively.  She,  who  had  always 
accompanied  me  to  my  famous  old  singing  master  for 
each  lesson,  so  well  knew  how  to  weigh  my  every  note, 
and  she  was  my  most  severe  critic,  as  also  with  my  assidu- 
ously studied  languages  for  which  I  had  admirable  mast- 
ers. I  really  almost  studied  my  nose  off  and  its  is  very 
small  now. 

Many  an  early  dawn,  as  I  awakened  at  home,  had  I 
seemed  to  see  the  piano  notes  which  I  invariably  practiced 
in  imagination  in  the  air,  with  my  fingers  at  the  dress- 
makers, standing  unconscious  of  fatigue,  while  mamma 
and  Mme.  Convers  planned,  draped  and  pinned,  and  I 
calmly  memorized  the  Italian  verses  of  my  aiias.  For 
they  would  never  in  those  days  allow  me  to  sing  English 


192  Personal  Experiences 

— "tame  music"  as  they  pronounced  our  ballads  of  that 
period.  Wonderful  accompaniments  now  almost  cover 
up  the  few  simple  singing  bars  of  the  new  style  of  Eng- 
lish "balladry" — a  little  word  of  my  own ! 

Sad,  regrettable  last  farewells;  kindly  requests  for 
my  future  return  to  hospitable  roofs. 

Lady  Hutton,  in  her  handsome  always  square-necked 
black  velvet  gown,  recalled  pleasantly  the  many  dinners 
we  had  both  attended  with  her  fine  captain  husband  and 
my  own  devoted  relatives,  politely  regretting  'twas  our 
last. 

All  those  clasping  of  hands  in  "good-bye"  were  ended. 
"Sir  Thomas'  carriage  stopped  the  way,"  my  last  night 
to  enter  it. 

I  slept  and  dreamed — and  packed  with  an  aching  void 
within.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  many  lovely  gifts  from 
my  three  young  boyish  cousins  in  their  eton  jackets: 
Julian,  George  and  Charlie. 

The  youngest  (in  his  perfectly  appointed  Scotch  kilt 
leggings  and  buckled  Tartan  plaid  at  shoulder)  had  so 
beautifully  danced  the  "Sword  Dance"  for  me,  to  the 
music  of  "The  Highland  Fling." 

Those  three  boys  are  now  General  Julian,  General 
George  and  Colonel  Charles  Steele,  I  have  been  informed. 
From  fighting  bravely  as  did  Julian  and  George  in  the 
Boer  War,  they  have  proved  themselves  and  promotions 
have  followed  quickly  in  this  war  of  nations. 


CROWN    PRINCE    FREDERICK    OF    DENMARK 
Sent    Personally   to    Me    in    New    York. 


In   Life's    Journey  195 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

The  Matthew  Wilkes,  great  friends  of  my  parents  stop- 
ping on  the  Irish  coast  awaiting  my  appearance,  had 
made  known  that  they  were  to  chaperone  me  safely  aboard 
the  steamer  back  to  New  York  City.  My  precious  mother's 
face  could  be  seen  beaming  with  love,  where  she  stood  on 
the  dock,  while  I  gazed  rapturously  down.  Mamma  and 
1  promptly  planned  going  over  to  Denmark  and  Sweden 
untrammelled  in  the  Spring,  which  plan  we  carried  out. 

'Twas  in  the  month  of  May  and  the  ocean  was  smooth 
like  a  lake. 

Several  times  on  crossing  in  that  month  back  and  forth 
I  noted  the  smoothness  of  the  sea.  We,  as  usual,  however, 
had  a  terrible  voyage  from  London  through  that  rough 
and  tumbling  North  Sea  with  every  one  but  the  captain 
lying  low.  I  was  fearful  that  my  mothers'  fresh  beauty 
of  which  we  were  all  so  proud  would  be  impaired  badly 
by  that  implacable  sea-sickness  ere  reaching  beloved  Den- 
mark. 

They  all  seemed  to  love  mamma  on  sight,  and  every 
one  of  papa's  relatives  quite  adopted  her. 

Each  place  of  beauty — of  rare  or  historic  interest — we 
visited  again  and  again. 

How  much  happiness  from  each  one,  radiated  round 
the  brilliant  mother,  of  whom  I  was  so  justly  proud — for 
was  it  not  her  clear  eye  of  truth  and  justice,  her  learn- 
ing and  words  of  wisdom,  her  spurrings  on  to  ambition  for 
excellence — and  whom  we  could  not  fail  to  strive  to  emu- 
late! 

She  was  admired  even  to  that  artistic  draping  of  her 
finest  point  lace  upon  her  evening  square-necked  velvet 


196  Personal  Experiences 

gown.  A  receipt  as  to  how  it  was  done,  was  asked  of  me, 
in  an  aside,  by  my  aunt  Marice,  wife  of  the  King's  Coun- 
sellor, at  the  Court  of  Denmark. 

We  were  all  included  in  a  tempting  invitation  to  His 
Majesty,  King  Christian's,  shooting  match  in  a  pic- 
tuiesque  and  most  private  royal  enclosure. 

My  cousin,  Fermanda  Holmblad  (later  married  to  Cap- 
tain Kaufman,  the  Kings  Equery),  with  a  sort  of  awe 
was  watching  mamma  engaged  in  sprightly  conversation 
with  the  then  Crown  Prince  Frederick.  He  was  soon 
to  succeed  our  beloved  King  Christian  whose  death  so 
shortly  followed  after  that  of  his  sweetheart  wife,  Queen 
Louise,  of  fifty-two  happy  wedded  years. 

Then  Frederick  reigned,  till  he  too  (the  former  witty 
and  favorite  King  with  his  happy  sunny-faced  queen,  the 
princess  of  Sweden),  occupied  the  throne  of  Denmark 
awhile.  Then  suddenly  his  life  flickered  out,  and  he  was 
found  difi  ing  their  majesty's  travels,  where  he  had  (with 
his  weak-heart  effection)  quietly  seated  himself  in  a  door- 
way in  the  street  to  rest. 

Now  this  son  reigns. 

But  then  Crown  Prince  Frederick  wrote  his  name 
across  his  upright  photograph  "Frederick,"  and  had  my 
cousin  the  Consul  General  from  Greece  to  Denmark  (his 
own  country),  Julius  Holmbald,  send  it  over  to  me  with 
Julius'  own  latest.  They  are  framed  together  in  my  salon. 

When  we  were  bidded  for  a  visit  to  "Wegeholm,"  where 
once  again  Therese  and  Robert  welcomed  us,  I  quietly 
reminded  him :  "I  have  come  back,  Robert,  as  I  promised, 
though  you  with  your  earnest  and  kindly  wishes,  deemed 
it  impossible." 

The  delight  of  those  days !  Our  rides,  our  drives,  our 
wanderings  over  the  farmlands! 


MRS.    O.    W.    C.    SCHACK 

'Mother    of    the     (4)     Schackii."    Who    Like    "Cornelia,    Mother    of   the    Gracchii, 
Desired   Above  be  on   the   Tombstone,   as   We  all   Four  had  her  Brown   Eyes. 


In   Life's   Journey  199 

In  Robert's  office,  he  was  consulted,  and  dubbed  the 
"young  father"  of  his  farmers,  who  paid  yearly  so  much 
for  the  leasing  out  of  Robert's  lands,  and  then,  over  and 
above  their  wants,  they  deposited  their  surplus  funds  in 
the  bank  which  Robert  built. 

Through  all  these  utility  buildings,  Mamma  and  1 
proudly  walked  baside  that  adorable  pair  of  lovers. 
Therese  so  fair  and  stately,  with  a  perpetual  twinkle  in 
her  clear  blue  eyes;  Robert,  the  princely  figure,  in  his 
dark  brown  velvet  coat  and  pumps,  his  fine  limbs  well 
stockinged  and  shod  in  harmony.  And  when  his  wife 
would  seat  herself  in  the  court  drawing  room,  accompany- 
ing his  songs,  his  voice,  rich  and  mellow  in  its  perfect 
training,  a  rare  tenor  like  my  father's,  I  watched  mamma 
draw  in  her  breath  and  listen  entranced. 

She  was  well  placed  in  His  Majesty  King  Oscar  of 
Sweden's  specially  reserved  suite  of  rooms,  for  yearly  he 
and  his  suite  came  for  stag  hunting  through  their  pre- 
serves. 


200  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

A  diplomatic  dinner  was  given,  and  my  Cousin  Julius 
came  over  for  it.  He  was  placed  opposite  my  seat  at  the 
dinner  table. 

I  had  dropped  one  of  my  white  slippers — large  for  me. 
When  I  later  put  my  foot  down,  feeling  for  it,  it  was 
gone.  A  twinkle  in  Julius'  eye  opposite  (always  in  for 
a  joke),  I  guessed  he  had  slipped  his  long  limb  quickly 
under,  and  slyly,  as  he  felt  it,  he  whisked  away  my  foot 
covering,  while,  as  the  moments  drew  near  for  rising,  I 
could  note  his  enjoyment  of  my  discomforture. 

A  swinging  hit  on  my  ankle,  and  lo,  I  had  it  back,  just 
in  time ! 

Therese  and  Robert  drove  us  to  a  rare  old  Swedish 
silver-curio  shop,  and  many  lovely  bits  did  mamma  pur- 
chase. 

The  afternoon  prior  to  our  departure,  they  presented 
my  mother  with  an  exquisite  amethyst  brooch  in  the 
shape  of  a  heart  of  three  finely  cut  extra  large  amethysts, 
surrounded  with  pearls  and  a  tiny  tail  as  a  stem,  reminded 
one  that  it  might  also  represent  a  three-leafed  clover. 

Their  gift  to  me  was  a  Swedish  cup  with  date  1700, 
and  some  initials  in  succession.  In  the  peasants  families 
of  former  years  'twas  the  custom  to  inscribe  below  the 
parent  owners'  initials  that  of  the  daughter  next  in 
descent,  and  so  on  down.  They  are  handed  down  as  wed- 
ding gifts. 

This  was  our  last  sight  of  and  farewell  to  "Wegeholm." 

Off  we  drove,  leaving  the  noble  cousins  to  make  ready 
for  the  following  day  for  King  Oscar  and  his  suite,  for 


In   Life's    Journey  201 

which  Robeit  had  whispered  to  me:  ''Constance,  it  is  a 
great  honor,  but  a  little  expensive !" 

We  were  en  route  for  Stockholm,  truly  the  "Venice  of 
the  North!" 

There,  on  that  late  afternoon,  in  the  big  Cursaal  tea 
garden,  sat  Dr.  George  Lefferts  in  company  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  George  DeWitt  of  New  York. 

They  exclaimed:  "Oh!  you  dears!  you  must  come  on 
board  with  us  and  sail  off  to  wonderful  St.  Petersburg. 
The  Fair  is  on  at  Nijni  Novgorod!" 

So,  after  obtaining  our  special  permit,  and  with  their 
court  courier,  we  passed  one  more  day  of  enjoyment  in 
Stockholm,  and  again  went  through  the  winter  palace,  its- 
private  sitting  rooms,  inspected  all  their  courtly  Lares 
and  Penate ;  thence,  out  to  the  summer  palace,  where  from 
the  windows  of  the  second  floor,  we  looked  out  upon  the 
terraced  gardens  like  those  at  Versailles — a  perfect  repro- 
duction— in  fact  all  but  the  "playing  of  the  waters." 

At  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  stoor  His  Majesty,  King 
Oscar  himself,  Alpine  hat  in  hand,  to  greet  us  as  Cousin 
Robert's  cousins. 

That  is  another  delightful  memory! 

We  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  at  The  Hotel  de  1'Europe, 
after  the  pleasing  experience  of  crossing  by  daylight  and 
re-crossing  by  night  the  interesting  canal  which  runs 
through  that  beautiful  City  of  Bridges  across  said  water, 
quite,  as  I  before  stated,  like  Venice. 


202  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Off,  from  Stockholm  to  St.  Petersburg,  kind  Dr.  Lef- 
ferts  chaiged  himself  with  all  the  labor  of  securing  the 
best  of  couriers  (in  some  way  related  to  one  of  the  higher 
attendants  in  the  Czar's  Palace) . 

As  the  ship  upon  which  we  embarked  neared  the  Rus- 
sian half-way  port,  we  noticed  the  first  drflske,  or  Rus- 
sian small  carriage,  with  its  coachman  in  his  heavy 
cloth,  greenish  colored  coat,  edged  with  a  strip  of  crim- 
son ;  his  head  topped  with  one  of  their  black  beaver  hats, 
cut  only  half  the  usual  height,  giving  a  really  odd  ex- 
pression to  that  style  of  tall  hat. 

We  were  allowed  an  hour's  halt,  and  engaged  one  of 
these  drdskes  for  a  drive  to  various  peasant  cottages  to 
see  their  life  and  customs. 

Back  to  the  ship  we  hied  to  sleep,  to  be  awakened  at 
4:30  A.  M. 

Quickly  dressed,  curiosity  and  expectation  drew  us  up 
on  deck;  and  as  the  sun  burst  forth,  while  gazing  ahead, 
the  real  gold  covered  dome  of  St.  Isaac's  church  or  cathe- 
dral, loomed  up  before  our  eyes. 

The  sun  struck  full  upon  it,  dazzling  us  with  its  wonder 
of  glistening  light. 

On  landing,  and  after  the  perfunctory  customs-house 
examination,  we  were  quartered  in  the  Grand  Hotel  de 
1'Europe,  where  we  matured  our  plans. 

Wandering  through  the  mazes  of  streets  lined  with 
cotton  covered  bazaars,  wares  of  all  sorts  and  values,  we 
examined  the  unique  Russian  enameled  spoons  (jeweled 
sometimes),  tea-strainers  in  rich  dark  blue  and  gold,  one 
of  which  I  have — a  beauty. 


In   Life's   Journey  203 

Purchases  were  made  freely,  till  at  last  we  landed  in  a 
tea  house,  where  stood  on  a  pedestal  in  a  corner  of  the 
room,  a  tall  huge  samovar  of  brass,  with  red  hot,  live 
coals  brought  inborn  time  to  time,  in  claW-shaped  large 
iron  fire  tongs,  by  Russian  peasant  maids-in-waiting, 
capped  and  prettily  costumed,  who  replenished  the  dying 

coals  linmrht  in  frnm  tiinr  1ir  linn-,  in  il Inipnd  larj^ 

at  boiling  point. 

Slices  of  lemon  in  the  hot  tea,  were  served  in  tall 
glasses,  and  seveial  times  replenished. 

Mr.  deWitt  was  deeply  impressed  by  the  container  and 
with  the  conviction  that  he  must  purchase  a  large  samo- 
var, upon  which  he  seemed  sure  that  happiness  depended. 
That  was  the  next  subject  to  be  considered. 

Mamma  and  I  were  impressed  when  noting  the  devout 
worshippers  move  in  numbers,  of  the  male  sex  rather  than 
of  women,  at  St.  Isaac's  cathedral,  where  we  sat  the  next 
morning  taking  it  all  in. 

There,  we  first  saw  Ikons,  and  like  Roman  Catholics, 
the  worshippers  knelt  before  them. 

Mamma  secured  an  Ikon,  a  fine  porcelain,  painted  and 
brass-framed  picture  of  the  Madonna  and  Christ-child; 
where  the  face  of  the  mother,  then  one  hand,  the  head 
and  feet  of  the  Christ-child,  showed  in  those  places 
where  the  brass  was  cut  out. 

We  chose  a  very  pretty  frame,  also  a  brass  branch  of 
openwork  design  to  screw  into  the  side  wall  of  her  Turk- 
ish room  at  home,  which  room  is  filled  with  embroidered 
cloth  seated  arm-chairs  and  others  in  her  New  York 
house.  From  that  bracket  on  a  strong  brass  chain  a  hang- 
ing lamp  contains  a  crimson  glass  cup  within,  to  hold  its 
chunky  candle  customarily  kept  ever  burning  by  Rus- 
sians in  front  of  their  Ikons. 


204  Personal  Experiences 

Mr.  DeWitt  with  the  courier  in  attendance,  next  morn- 
ing found  just  a  samovar  to  his  liking.  He  went  from 
one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other,  in  search  of  the  place 
where  he  could  entrust  it  to  a  transferring  express  com- 
pany— lingering  to  have  it  well  encased. 

That  little  enterprise  depleted  his  pockets  of  "just  fifty 
dollars,"  he  said;  but  he  and  pretty  Mrs.  DeWitt  laugh- 
ingly spoke  of  the  real  fun  and  pleasure  they  were  to 
have  with  it  in  New  York. 

Odd  how,  after  their  safe  return  home,  they  waited 
long  (though  it  was  supposed  to  have  gone  ahead  of  them) 
in  vain ! 

Searchers  on  this  side,  and  in  St.  Petersburg  were  em- 
ployed ;  never  up  to  this  day  has  a  sight  of  it  been  granted 
to  either  of  them! 

As  to  the  Ikon's  fate,  we  packed  it  nicely  in  the  very 
bottom  of  soft  things  in  a  trunk  or  box,  and  it  hangs  in 
my  own  second  and  crimson-walled  drawing  room  in 
Washington,  D.  C. 


In   Life's    Journey  205 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

The  winter  palace  had  just  been  the  scene  of  a  birth- 
day anniversary  of  the  Crown  Prince. 

The  Vienese  glasses,  golden  and  silver  plates,  with  nap- 
kins aside  of  them,  lay  upon  the  table  from  which  we 
had  heard  the  royal  personages  arise,  and  file  out  of  those 
doo-s  to  the  grand  salon,  while  we  were  quietly  ushered 
in  by  another  priviledged  entrance. 

One  of  their  royal  fetes,  was  next  to  be  celebrated 
that  very  evening  out,  at  Tzarsko  Zelo,  the  little  palace 
beyond  the  park  along  which  we  were  being  rapidly  driv- 
en, noting  on  either  side,  overhead  (at  equal  distances 
beside  the  telegraph  wire),  hanging  Chinese  lanterns,  to 
be  lighted  that  night  for  the  royal  cortege  to  pass  to  the 
said  palace. 

We  reached  the  little  stream  which  separated  it  from 
us,  and  were  surprised  to  find  only  a  small  wooden  move- 
able  bridge  (over  which  we  in  turn  crossed).  It  was 
pulled  back  and  forth  by  a  round  very  thick  rope  running 
through  rings  on  the  railing  of  this  narrow  and  short 
lengthed  bridge. 

Soon  we  each  landed  on  the  Palace  side  of  terra  firma, 
looking  back  curiously  at  that  novel  construction,  by 
which  we  should  have  to  return. 

After  our  inspection  of  the  lovely  Palace,  we  were 
led  out  to  some  prettily  wrought  iron  benches,  beneath 
finely  leaved  iron-trees.  These  were  ordered  by  one  of  the 
Russian  queens,  who  was  elevated  to  her  queenship  from 
a  peasant  possessing  rich  wondrous  beauty.  And  in  order 
to  visit  her  fine  humor  and  facetious  spleen  upon  some 
of  her  lady  subjects,  she  would  conduct  them,  or  perhaps 


206  Personal  Experiences 

have  them  led  to  these  benches,  ordered  to  be  seated, 
and  then  in  an  instant,  a  fine  spraying  of  drops  of  water 
from  every  leaf  on  those  small  trees,  would  drench  them 
nolens  or  volens  to  her  gleesomeness. 

We  were  next  led  to  a  tree  called  "The  George  Washing- 
ton Tree."  Planted  from  the  slip  of  a  famous  tree  over 
in  this  country  which  is  authentically  known  to  have 
been  planted  by  our  President  Washington. 

From  this  Russian  tree  we  each  were  given  a  leaf,  and 
mine  I  pressed  in  my  red  leather  scrap  book. 

They  told  how  Peter  the  Great  was  wont  to  retire  and, 
while  whittling  with  his  knife,  he  built  the  boat,  which  is 
exhibited  still  perfect,  within  the  hut  which  he  also  built 
and  lived  in  very  frugally. 

At  the  triangular  left  hand  corner,  facing  the  doorway, 
has  existed  for  a  long  time  a  most  cleverly  constructed 
altar.  Draped  with  fine  Russian  lace,  handsome  candel- 
abra, with  many  candles  and  holy  objects  on  those  small 
shelves;  cleverly  built  up  from  a  broad  base  to  a  point 
triangularly  reaching  the  ceiling  of  the  corner. 

A  stalwart  priest  in  robes  (who  lives  there)  appeared, 
and  in  conversation  remarked :  "More  worshippers  and 
more  tribute  moneys  are  annually  received  here  at  this 
altar  than  in  any  city  church." 

Peter  the  Great's  father,  Alexander,  had  indulged  in 
an  odd  pleasure : 

A  space  on  the  capitol  palace  floor  was  pointed  out  to 
us,  whereon  two  beautifully  constructed  coffins  had  rested 
for  several  years  until  his  demise.  And  into  which  it  was 
his  wont  to  daily  escort  his  queen,  and  bade  her  lie  down 
within  it  to  show  how  she  would  appear,  when  reposing 
there  after  she  should  have  actually  passed  away. 

He  also  treated  himself  frequently  to  that  gruesome 
experiment. 


In   Life's    Journey  207 


CHAPTER  XLVII1. 

We  hastened  back  to  the  city,  for  Dr.  Left'erts  and  the 
Dewitts  were  off  for  Nijni  Novgarod  and  Moscow, 
while  we  were  due  in  Berlin,  thence  to  Paris,  where 
mamma  had  engaged  an  apartment  for  one  month  before 
catching  our  steamer  to  New  York. 

Before  leaving  Stockholm  for  Russia,  we  had  sent 
all  our  trunks  (but  one  large  brass  bound)  to  Denmark, 
for  they  had  been  preparing  for  our  return  to  my  father- 
land. 

With  two  expensive  tickets  to  Berlin,  I  was  to  obtain 
our  stateroom  on  the  train,  about  to  start  upon  a  thirty- 
eight  hour  ride  to  Berlin.  In  line  I  stood,  and  once  at 
that  desk,  I  was  told  "twelve  dollars  for  extra  luggage." 
"What?"  said  I — I  could  not  credit  the  clerk's  demand 
while  disgustedly  fumbling  for  my  gold  coins,  when  a 
comely  gentleman  spoke  at  my  elbow :  "Mademoiselle, 
permit  me  to  serve  you.  Twelve  dollars,  the  overweight 
charges  are  heavy ;  everyone  is  allowed  only  fifty  pounds 
of  luggage,  and  your  two  tickets  allow  but  100  pounds — 
they  naturally  charge  as  they  like.  I  always  carrry  my 
strong  carpet-bag,  paying  boys  a  few  pennies  from  cars 
to  conveyances,  for  I  collect  many  books  in  my  travels  and 
they  weigh,  you  know.  So  I  am  sorry  to  say  you  will 
have  to  pay  that  twelve  dollars." 

Thanking  him,  I  drew  forth  those  cherished  coins, 
pathetically  parting  with  them. 

Once  seated  in  our  compartment,  mamma  and  I  espied 
outside  our  windows  in  a  vendor's  hand,  delightful  look- 
ing nectarines,  grapes  and  plums  grouped  together  in 
their  little  wooden  holders. 


208  Personal  Experiences 

We  looked  out  longingly.  That  same  gentleman  had 
seen  us,  and  brought  in  a  basket,  quickly  remarking: 
"Allow  me  to  bring  them  in  instead  of  the  vendor  and 
I  will  go  now  to  get  one  for  myself." 

We  placed  the  cash  in  his  hand  and  thanked  him. 

While  the  train  sped  along,  a  figure  stood  in  our 
doorway,  along  the  green  carpeted  little  corridor  running 
aside  of  all  our  compartments — a  voice  from  the  smiling 
cavalier:  "I  have  no  one  to  introduce  me  but  here  is  my 
card."  It  read :  "Captain  Lumley  of  Lumley  Castle,  the 
Queen's  Secret  Messenger." 

He  proved  a  most  delightful  traveling  companion,  and 
relieved  us  of  all  orders  for  the  German  servants. 

Much  to  the  sorrow  of  our  whole  party  of  Danish  and 
Swedish  relatives,  we  just  had  to  change  all  our  plans  by 
having  gone  to  Russia  so  unexpectedly.  Unable  to  fill 
our  engagements  with  them,  we  had  telegraphed  to  for- 
ward our  trunks  which  they  had  kindly  been  holding  for 
us  in  Copenhagen,  and  to  freight  our  luggage  to  Berlin, 
for  which  they  mailed  us  the  checks. 

What  a  hunt  for  them  after  due  time  for  their  arrival. 
Captain  Lumley  proved  a  trump !  In  a  carriage  we  drove 
far,  far  off  to  their  depositing  depot,  and  after  a  number 
of  days  of  primal  inquiries,  we  discovered  their  resting 
place  and  engaged  a  trusty  man  who  safely  conveyed  them 
to  the  train  for  Paris,  sending  them  wisely  again  by 
freight. 

We  had  read  of  the  walks  and  beauty  of  Unter  der  Lin- 
den, but  how  overrated  all  that  had  been!  It  seemed 
from  our  hotel,  a  convenient  starting  point  only  for  our 
little  expeditions,  and  returns  to  good  repasts. 

Final  adieus  made,  we  were  off  for  Paris ! 


MISS  ANNIE  CUTTING 

Daughter   of   the    Beautiful   Mrs.    Hexward    Cutting   of    New    York    and    Paris. 
Now  Madame  Constantinevitch. 


In   Life's    Journey  211 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

He.  e  our  life-long  friend,  Mrs.  Hey  ward  Cutting  always 
beautiful  and  witty,  with  her  lovely  daughter,  now  Mme. 
Constantinovitch,  met  us  and  were  perfectly  devoted. 
Their  luxurious  apartment  on  the  Champs  Elysees  No. 
73,  was  the  scene  of  delightful  treats,  music,  happy 
reminiscenses,  and  helped  us  greatly  on  our  shopping  ex- 
peditions. 

A  devoted  Viscount,  planned  the  most  enchanting  trips 
to  Fontainblau,  Versailles,  on  Sundays,  for  only  on  that 
day  did  they  turn  on  the  pipes  and  have  "the  playing 
of  the  waters"  in  marvelously  lovely  forms  all  the  way 
down  the  terraced  heights  of  its  gardens.  To,  oh  so  many 
charming  places  did  he  take  us. 

On  our  return  from  Cluny,  one  Sunday  afternoon,  a 
number  of  persons  stood  without  our  apartment  building 
not  daring  to  enter  the  rez  de  chausse,  or  apartment  level 
with  the  street,  while  smoke  was  pouring  out  through  the 
closed  and  locked  windows  and  door. 

Not  a  fireman  could  presume  to  make  an  entry.  No, 
indeed.  The  Paris  laws  forbade  any  entrance  by  any 
one  unless  the  family  or  occupant  were  there  and  opened 
unto  them. 

We  three  sat  on  the  staircase,  pondering;  not  daring 
to  go  up  for  fear  the  fire  might  burst  forth,  and  as  we 
were  on  the  fifth  floor,  to  be  trapped  up  there  did  not 
appeal  to  us.  The  Viscount  suddenly  exclaimed :  "I  never 
realized  that  we  French  could  have  any  stupid  laws,  but 
now  I  see  how  perfectly  ridiculous  and  unreasonable  this 
law  is  and  meanwhile  how  that  fire  is  amusing  itself! 
Mamma  and  I  smiled  broadly,  for  his  was  a  comic  view 
to  take. 


212  Personal  Experiences 

After  a  long  three  quarters  of  an  hour  the  family 
returned  to  allow  extinguishers  and  water  to  destroy  some 
of  their  belongings,  but  at  last  the  fire  was  out,  and  no 
further  danger  to  us. 

Viscount  d'Hauterive  gave  us  a  superb  dinner  at  "The 
Lion  d'Orr" — everything  served  on  gilded  service.  The 
statuary,  rare,  wrought  vases,  etc.,  were  a  surprise. 

Dinner  and  theatre  boxes  to  hear  the  two  Coquelins  in 
comedies;  to  the  grand  opera,  where  we  sat  and  listened 
for  the  twenty-ninth  time  to  a  magnificent  presentation 
of  Gounod's  "Faust,"  and  Verdi's  "Aida"  and  Wagner's 
"Lohengren." 

We  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  taken  to  an  almost  un- 
noticeable  door  (but  only  by  rare  and  special  permit)  in 
the  very  heart  of  Paris,  where  one  of  the  Louis  had  had 
constructed  a  veritable  reproduction  of  a  Pompeiian 
palace,  with  its  rich,  vermillion-colored  and  wall  panelled 
porpho«y  pillars,  its  square  marble  baths,  sunk  beneath 
the  level  of  the  floor. 

The  magnificent,  gigantic,  seated  statues  in  fine  carved 
white  marble  chairs  of  the  great  kings  Solomon  and  David 
with  their  profoundest  expressions  of  wisdom  placed 
on  either  side  of  the  decorated  space  in  the  great  square 
central  hall. 

Upstairs,  were  daintily  fitted-out  boudoirs  and  bed- 
rooms for  the  King  to  enjoy;  and  the  wondrous  appoint- 
ments for  dining  and  wining  his  favorite  court  circle, 
when  he  sought  rest  and  diversion. 

At  the  Cluny  palace,  a  small  building,  were  lace  ex- 
hibits of  exquisitely  needled  laces  for  sale.  Mamma  was 
an  especial  connoisseuse  on  laces, — her  eyes  were  very 
discerning. 


COUNT    CHARLES    D'HAUTRIVE    OF    FRANCE 
My  First   Fiance.     C.   S.    Gracie. 


In   Life's    Journey  215 

The  Viscounte  was  wont  to  exclaim  enthusiastically: 
"Votre  belle,  et  spirituelle  mere,  eMine  lueur  dans  ses 
yeux  bruns,  qui  parle  vivement!" 

He  was  quite  as  lovely  to  her  as  to  myself,  but  such 
extravagant  tastes  as  he  was  afflicted  with. 

I  decided  (as  we  fled  to  Hombourg  and  to  other  places 
to  which  he  hied  in  search  of  us  always  to  learn  that 
we  had  left  a  day  or  two  previous)  to  finally  write  him, 
and  I  thus  closed  that  chapter.  Kind,  generous  and 
chivalrous  cavalier,  he  married,  some  years  after  a 
divorced  May  his  soul  rest  in  peace.  He  has  gone  to 
that  bourne  from  which  no  traveler  returns. 


In   Lije's    Journey  217 


CHAPTER  L. 

Mis.  Cutting  influenced  us  to  t.ip  off  to  Hombourg. 
The  King,  Albert  Edwaid,  was  there  with  his  suite; 
Queen  Alexandra  was  in  England. 

He  sat  just  above  us  in  the  Coursalle.  He  was  wont 
to  invite,  through  his  aide,  a  few  ladies  and  gentlemen 
to  dine  with  His  Majesty. 

The  dinner  over,  a  tray  was  always  passed  to  the  guests, 
and  seven  francs  was  collected  from  each  one.  An  origi- 
nal custom,  after  obeying  a  command  to  dine  with  His 
Majesty,  the  then  King  of  England. 

At  six  of  the  clock  each  morning  we  were  all  down  at 
the  spring  either  to  drink  or  to  see  others  drink  of  those 
waters ;  we  did  not. 

But,  from  His  Majesty  down  to  civilians,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  many  drank  for  healing  purposes. 

A  lovely  looking  newly-wed,  Mrs.  K and  her  proud 

young  husband  had  arrived,  with  quarters  just  opposite 
the  handsome  stone  villa  in  which  the  Giberts  of  New 
York  were  quartered. 

His  Majesty  had  set  his  eyes  upon  that  sweet  bride 
and  ordered  that  he  should,  each  morning  at  the  springs, 
lead  the  procession  of  walking  .couples  with  her  as  his 
partner.  Two  and  two,  everyone  walked  for  half  an  hour 
between  drinking  each  glass  of  water. 

One  day,  we  all  stood  in  the  Gibert's  grounds  with  a 
camera,  and  as  His  Majesty  appeared  and  his  feet  sped 
toward  the  young  bride's  apartments  opposite,  we  caught 
a  snap  shot  of  him,  and  one  of  these  photos  I  have  in  a 
brass  oblong  frame  in  my  drawing  room  table — inscribed 
thus : 


218  Personal  Experiences 

"His  Majesty,  King  Edward,  in  rapid  strides,  to  cross 
the  street  for  his  visit  to  Mrs.  K ." 

He  gave  orders  that  it  is  customary  for  the  husband  to 
absent  himself  when  His  Majesty  calls  upon  his  lady. 

This  was  reported  to  the  bridegroom's  home  in  Eng- 
land, and  promptly  came  a  telegram  from  his  father: 
"All  income  ceases  at  once  if  you  do  not  immediately  re- 
turn home,"  which  they  did. 

I  also  have  a  group  of  ourselves  taken  at  the  Gibert's 
gateway. 

The  following  incident  of  the  former  Mrs.  James 
Urquhart  Potter  relates  to  her  sending  a  note  to  beautiful 
much  admiied  and  respected  Mrs.  George  Peabody  Wet- 
moie,  wife  of  Senator  Wetmore  from  Rhode  Island. 

Mrs.  Wetmore  was  out  when  mamma  and  I  were 
ushered  into  their  Hombourg  apartment. 

Mr.  Wetmore  advanced  to  greet  us  saying  that  Mrs. 
Wetmore  had  been  suffering  with  a  terrible  headache, 
and  had  gone  walking;  since  when  a  note  has  been  sent 
awaiting  her  eturn ;  a  second  one  has  followed,  inquiring 
why  had  not  Mrs.  Wetmore  answered  the  invitation  ten- 
dered through  Mrs.  Potter  by  His  Majesty  King  Edward 
to  join  him  with  Mrs.  Potter  at  luncheon ;  but  he  said  that 
he  was  unable  to  send  Mrs.  Wetmore's  answer  until  her 
return. 

A  third  messenger  met  Mrs.  W.  as  she  re-entered  her 
quarters.  It  was  passed  out  by  the  indignant  Mrs.  Pot- 
ter that  Mrs.  Wetmore  had  written  that  she  must  decline 
the  luncheon  invitation,  as  she  never  accepted  invita- 
tions where  other  gentlemen  were,  which  did  not  include 
her  husband. 


MRS.   GEORGE  PEABODY  WETMORE 
I'n    Pau-Bassc    Pyrinaes,    France.      Wife    of    the    Senator    from    Rhode    Islam 


In   Life's    Journey  221 

His  sister  Mary,  the  adorable  Duchess  of  Teck,  en- 
thused over  the  noble  and  womanly  stand  which  Mrs. 
Wetmoie  had  taken,  which  elevated  our  lovely  Mrs.  Wet- 
more  to  a  high  standard  of  New  York  womanhood,  and 
set  a  noble  example  to  her  compatriots. 

We  were  wont  to  go  into  Hamburg  at  the  little  5  P.  M. 
railroad  train  for  seven  o'clock  operas,  returning  to  Hom- 
bourg  in  good  time  that  same  night. 

We  spent  some  days  in  the  city  and  stood  upon  the 
bridge  which  divides  the  old  town  and  the  new  Ham- 
buig — a  very  quaint  city  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  a 
bright  active  new  Hamburg. 

At  night,  from  the  hotel  piazza.,  it  presented  a  lovely 
scenic  effect  with  myriads  of  lighted  boats  and  points  of 
moorage  and  the  sky  full  of  stars  with  a  brilliant  moon. 

There  at  the  hotel  we  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  de  Courcey 
May,  one  of  the  brothers  of  Mr.  Henry  May  of  Baltimo:e 
and  Washington,  the  brothers  having  married  the  two 
Misses  Coleman.  Mrs.  May  and  my  mother  became  so 
attached  to  each  other  that  our  travels  were  again  de- 
flected to  Wiesbaden. 

Time  was  growing  short.  Old  silver  inspections  and 
collections  filled  the  last  day  of  our  shopping  travellers, 
then  to  Paris  we  speeded,  collected  our  completed  outfits, 
caught  our  steamer,  and  at  last  we  reached  New  York. 


222  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Oh!  how  hot  was  the  shore  atmosphere!  Friends  in 
greeting  us,  advised  Bar  Harbor. 

We  obtained  a  cottage  on  the  road-side—near  the  beau- 
tiful bay — attached  by  a  grape-harbor  to  the  side  of  the 
Newport  Hotel,  where  we,  my  Aunt  Helen  Jackson,  dainty 
and  pretty,  with  my  greatly  admired  mother  established 
themselves. 

This  brings  back  a  pretty  vivid  scene  from  opposite, 
we  thought,  just  two  days  after  our  arrival,  comfortably 
unpacked  and  settled. 

In  the  night,  out  of  a  profound  sleep,  I  awoke.  The 
sound  of  crackling  wood  struck  my  ears,  a  bright  light 
through  the  shutter  slats, — flames  across  the  narrow 
street. 

There  stood,  wrapped  in  flames,  a  wooden  hotel  of  three 
stories — a  dry  old  wooden  structure. 

An  Italian  workman  frankly  explained  that  he  had  lit 
his  pipe,  threw  the  match  on  the  floor,  and  fell  asleep; 
and  while  he  heavily  slept,  a  blaze  indeed  had  burst  forth 
which  nearly  overpowered  him. 

The  wind  was  toward  our  cottage — my  room  faced  that 
way. 

Across  the  corridor  and  around  the  circular  rail  of  the 
stairway  I  went  and  awakened  both  mother  and  aunt. 

In  their  dark  rooms  only  lighted  by  the  light  from  the 
hall  I  helped  them  dress,  and  assisted  them  down  stairs, 
saying  that  I  would  follow  soon. 

To  the  beds  of  each  in  turn  I  went  and  off  with  a  sheet, 
which  I  laid  upon  the  floor;  I  opened  the  wardrobes  and 
bureau  drawers. 


In   Life's    Journey  223 

Gowns,  shoes,  coats  and  parasols,  with  hats — all — were 
thrown  in  with  lightening  rapidity,  tied,  and  on  "my 
deadly  left  wrist,"  I  drafed  them  along. 

Three  times  in  turn  a^id  down  those  stairs  I  deposited 
the  fruits  of  my  labor  upon  the  piazza. 

Then  for  the  silver!  Back  into  the  .steamer  trunk  I 
quietly  packed  it  as  carefully  as  my  remaning  wits  helped 
me  to  do — for  afrming  shouts  came  through  the  windows 
— "here's  another  ball  of  fire  on  the  roof."  Five  brands 
fell  on  our  roof  in  succession  while  I  listened  to  the  sound 
of  ladders  being  placed  at  the  side  of  our  cottage. 

Firemen  were  taking  up  blankets  soaked  in  water  to 
lay  on  our  roof. 

My  aunt  had  sometimes  stated  that  she  would  always 
know  just  what  to  do  and  where  to  lay  her  hands  on  her 
things  of  value  in  case  of  fire. 

I  had  found  that  in  her  haste  on  this  occasion,  her 
waist  bag  of  jewelry  had  remained  quietly  hanging  on 
the  back  of  her  bedroom  chair — I  carefully  placed  it  in  the 
silver  trunk  and  dragged  that  also  down  stairs. 

My  wrist  for  ten  days  was  sore  and  sadly  strained. 

Mr.  Allen  Townsend  appeared  saying  "Your  Aunt 
Helen  is  safe  up  at  our  hotel  with  mother,  and  she  has 
saved  an  ivory  hair  brush  which  she  tenderly  holds  in 
her  hand;  while  I  promised  to  run  down  and  let  you 
know  where  she  is." 

I  heard  the  following  morning  that  at  the  Newport, 
flying  cinders  ignited  the  roofs  and  piazza  sheds  beneath 
bedroom  windows;  and  that  pitchers  and  basins  with 
the  water  in  them  had  been  thrown  out  by  excited  guests. 
Funny  pictures  were  drawn  of  excited  ladies  in  various 
costumes,  hopelessly  appearing  in  dread  of  the  worst, 
only  to  finally  retire  and  assemble  again  at  late  break- 
fast and  compare  notes. 


224  Personal  Experiences 

A  house  thief  had  made  his  first  and  only  appearance 
at  Bar  Harbor. 

One  of  New  York's  yacht  owners  had  just  had  his 
family's  cottage  piazza-roof  painted  and  oiled — his  idea 
of  making  it  fire-proof. 

Oddly  enough  that  rendered  it  most  slippery  for  a 
robber,  who  (after  the  family  with  their  young  lady  guest 
had  retired,  with  lights  out)  had  climbed  a  trellis  and 
entering  that  same  young  lady's  room,  grabbed  up  the 
jewelry  on  her  bureau,  which  awoke  her. 

She  dashed  for  the  arm  of  the  thief  and  held  on,  till 
through  the  window,  his  hasty  retreat  slid  him  too  quickly 
off  that  slippeiy  oiled  roof,  resulting  in  a  sprained  ankle. 

The  following  day  he  was  discovered  in  hiding,  as  well 
as  in  pain,  beneath  the  piazza  of  a  lady's  cottage  adjacent 
to  our  "Newport  Villa." 

She  tremulously  recounted  the  fact  to  us  saying:  "Only 
think!  There  I  sat  at  my  desk  writing  letters  all  that 
evening,  unconscious  of  my  danger." 

The  thief  met  his  deserts. 

Witty  Mr.  Irving  Ball  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  pleased 
to  fiequently  call  and  make  me  his  confidante  in  his 
courtship  of  a  young  lady  across  at  Sorento,  appeared 
the  following  afternoon  with  a  terrible  looking  "Wooden 
Brainer"  (he  called  it)  and  had  painted  on  it  scarlet 
letters  "Burglar  Exterminator."  Its  appearance  caused 
much  merriment.  He  had  dug  up  a  tree-root,  leaving 
its  shaip  points,  polished  the  wood,  after  scraping  it 
pure  white  with  dashes  of  black  and  scarlet,  then  painted 
on  the  following  clever  verse : 

"Thrice  is  he  blest  who  hath  his  quarrel  just 
But  four  times  he  who  gets  his  blow  in  fust." 


In  Life's   Journey  225 

There  is  a  neat  cap  of  silver  with  a  ring  through  it  to 
hang  it  by  one's  bed  or  fireside,  where  it  rests  in  my 
Washington  home.  I  show  it  to  my  friends  sometimes  and 
have  a  good  laugh  over  the  incident. 

Upon  my  wall  also  hangs  a  lovely  water-color  which 
he  painted  of  a  Bar  Harbor  nook. 

He  certainly  was  deft  with  his  fingers.  Out  of  a 
piece  of  oak  he  carved  a  long,  more  than  square,  box, 
polished  it,  had  a  Bar  Harbor  jeweller  carve  four  silver 
topped  edges  and  a  tiny  silver  lock  and  key;  then  filled 
it  with  ivory,  red  and  blue  chips,  and  packs  of  cards. 

Accompanied  by  his  friend,  an  orange  grove  owner 
from  Florida,  they  taught  us  the  game  of  boaston,  a 
very  clever  game. 

Most  agreeable  acquaintances  were  they  to  all  three  of 
us. 

From  the  orange  grove  the  following  winter  came  a 
case  of  luscious  fruit. 

Mr.  Ball  married  the  gifted  young  lady,  who  seconds 
him  in  all  his  aims  and  ambitions.  He  said  that  his 
father  was  wont  to  boast  that  none  of  his  ancestors  had 
ever  been  "in  trade." 


226  Personal  Experiences 


CHAPTER  LIL 

Two  months  later,  with  the  vivid  memory  of  my  father's 
superb  features  and  of  my  Danish  cousin,  the  consul- 
geneial  from  Greece  to  Denmark,  Julius  Holmblad,  I  met 
his  prototype  at  a  delightful  Sunday  night  dinner  given 
by  the  William  Rhinelanders.  An  extremely  handsome 
man,  of  soldierly  bearing  and  magnetic  blue  eyes,  was 
Archibald  Gracie,  IV,  whose  resemblance  to  my  afore- 
mentioned relatives  was  startling ! 

Having  granted  himself  two  months'  vacation  on  a 
return  from  a  number  of  years  of  duty  spent  in  the 
west,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rhinelander  and  their  two  sons 
Oakley  and  Philip,  had  persuaded  him  to  pass  that  peiiod 
of  time  with  them  as  their  house  guest. 

Sunday  evenings  were  the  only  ones  for  which  social 
engagements  and  dances  could  not  claim  those  two  sons, 
as  they  gave  a  weekly  treat  to  their  parents  on  that  night. 
Home  gatherings  bi  ought  a  number  of  their  chums,  who 
always  dropped  in  later  for  music  and  supper.  Philip 
played  the  piano  charmingly.  He  and  his  darling  young 
wife  (nee  Adelaide  Ktp)  always  entertained  us  with 
little  informal  dancing  and  supper  at  their  apartment 
twice  a  week  following  the  Seventh  Regiment  drills,  which 
all  their  chums  attended. 

They  were  sure  to  meet  at  these  Sunday  evening  re- 
unions, Philip  Livingston,  Andrew  Bibby,  the  Wainwright 
brothers  and  jolly  Mr.  Henry  Trevor,  then  courting  his 
wife  to  be. 

For  thirty  days,  luncheons,  including  both  girls  and  our 
young  men ;  afternoon  teas,  and  musicales,  dinner  parties 
opera  box-parties,  followed  by  cotillions  in  which  figures 


Ml'SS  MARY  BARBEY 

Mr.    Alfred    Seton    3    Months    Before    Gracies    and    Whose    Bridal 
Veil    Miss    S.    Wore. 


In  Life's   Journey  229 

were  bestowed — lovely  souvenirs — followed  in  quick  suc- 
cession. 

All  these  gatherings  threw  Archibald  Gracie  and  me 
continually  together  until  his  host  inquired  of  him  one 
night:  "Are  you  going  Schacking  this  evening?"  which 
he  laughingly  repeated  to  me.  We  played  indoor-tennis 
at  our  Badminton  Club;  and  one  afternoon  just  prior  to 
Colonel  Gracie's  offering  himself,  he  was  standing  down 
at  the  end  of  the  opposite  court  with  a  young  lady  part- 
ner, Mr.  John  Hadden  and  I  for  doubles  at  the  top  of  the 
court.  Mr.  Hadden  had  finished  his  service,  and  it  was 
my  turn  to  take  the  balls,  but  so  enthusiastic  was  he 
that  with  his  unusually  long  arms  he  whanged  back  his 
own  racket  in  my  face  so  desirous  to  retrieve  the  oppo- 
nent's ball  played  to  me.  Deep  into  the  side  of  my  brow 
and  bone  between  the  eyes  cut  his  deadly  racket  blow. 
The  blood  poured  down  my  face  and  shirtwaist. 

Promptly  I  called  for  hot  water  to  cleanse  it  out  and 
stop  the  flow  of  gore,  so  that  the  lips  of  the  wound  might 
absolutely  meet.  They  did,  but  the  bone-cut  has  left  a 
long  indention  like  a  deep  one  line  frown,  a  mark  for 
life. 

Preparation  for,  and  the  wedding  itself,  occured  on 
the  22nd  of  April,  1890,  in  Calvary  Episcopal  Church, 
wherein  my  grandfather,  with  his  four  neighbor  chums, 
had  subscribed  for  their  pew,  while  watching  its  stone 
pillars  and  construction  in  process  of  erection,  namely: 
Messrs.  Lawrence  Whittemore,  Samuel  Baldwin,  Samuel 
Bradhurst  and  Dr.  Heath. 

Those  five  friends  had  also  purchased  lots  beside  each 
other,  and  had  their  houses  of  brown  stone  in  East  25th 
Street  built  in  a  row.  With  eighteen  heads  tor  each 
house,  placed  on  the  top  sides  of  every  door  and  of  each 
window  all  the  way  up — carved  out  of  brown  stone,  rep- 


230  Personal  Experiences 

resenting  the  head  and  covering  of  Dante,  Plutarch, 
Nero,  and  12  Roman  Emperors,  Shakespeare,  etc.  Two 
heads  of  which,  after  the  beloved  home  of  our  grand- 
father was  sold  with  the  others  and  taken  down,  I  had 
encased  and  freighted  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  and  inserted 
in  the  stone  architrave  on  either  side  of  our  front  door, 
1527  Sixteenth  Street. 

In  Calvary  Church  then,  we  two,  Archibald  Gracie 
and  Constance  Elise  Schack,  presented  ourselves  before 
Bishop  Saterlee,  assisted  by  Bishop  Darlington. 

As  the  question  was  put  to  the  soldierly  groom  "Wilt 
thou,"  a  prompt  and  loud  "I  will"  resounded  down  through 
the  church  aisle,  and  a  startling  remark  from  a  relative 
later  was : 

"The  way  that  the  groom  answered  'I  will'  showed  that 
he  wanted  you  badly,  Constance!" 

I,  at  that  time  being  in  deep  mourning  for  my  recently 
lost  brother  Rudolph  Wilhelm  Schack,  could  only  write 
informal  notes  of  invitation  to  two  hundred  families  of 
our  most  intimate  New  York  friends.  To  occupy,  as  we 
supposed,  twenty  long  pews  on  either  side  at  the  top  of 
the  huge  church.  Instead  of  which,  the  kind  friends  and 
acquaintances  crowded  to  the  doors  pushing  past  our 
ushers  insisting,  they  said :  "We  will  see  Constance  Schack 
married !"  And  the  church  to  our  amazement  was  packed 
with  smiling  faces  and  every  one  attired  in  their  best. 

Also  were  we  surprised  and  touched  at  our  invited  200, 
for  each  of  those  families  sent  a  handsome  gift,  and 
eleven  beautiful  silver  tributes  came  from  Sweden  and 
Denmark. 

Their  Majesties  had  permitted  the  court  jeweller  to 
reproduce  their  Danish  tankard  without  the  jewels  around 
its  bowl  but  finely  raised  traceries  instead — lined  with 
gold — and  presented  by  my  uncle  and  aunt  Etatsraad  and 


MISS  CONSTANCE  SCHACK 
When  Engaged  to  Archibald  Gracie,   November 


ARCHIBALD    GRACIE    IV 
On    His  -Bridal    Day    to    Miss    Schack. 


FIRST  BISHOP  OF  WASHINGTON 


Who    Assisted    Bishop    Darlington— United    Miss    Constance    Schack    to 
Archibald  Gracie  IV,   in   Calvary  Church,   New  York 
City,    April    22,    1890. 


In   Life's    Journey  237 

Etatsraadinefc  Holmblad — Cousin  Julius  and  his  wife — 
these  four.  It  was  a  beautiful  souvenir! 

When  we  mysteriously  told  the  ushers,  who  escorted 
us  to  the  carriage,  that  we  were  going  to  British  posses- 
sions and  that  our  coachman  knew  where  to  convey  us, 
they  exclaimed,  "Oh!  we  know — to  Canada — Canada!" 

Not  so,  though;  Sir  Roderick  Cameron  was  a  British 
subject. 

He  and  his  generous  hospitable  family  had  placed  their 
lovely  country  seat  "Clifton  Rarley"  at  Staten  Island,  at 
our  disposal  for  a  six  weeks'  wedding  trip,  and  reaching 
there,  the  evening  papers  were  handed  to  us  with  the 
headlines  which  read:  "Beauty  hard  to  win,  surrenders 
at  discretion  to  Archibald  Grade." 

Among  the  wedding  gifts  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  C.  Wilmer- 
ding  had  sent  from  his  choice  wine  cellar  a  bottle  of 
"Archibald  Grade"  Madeira,  brought  over  in  cases  by  my 
husband's  great-grandfather,  Archibald  Gracie  I,  whose 
merchant  ships  plied  the  seas,  and  the  ship  which  was 
laden  with  these  cases  was  named  after  him.  His  friends 
in  New  York  had  bought  up  all  the  said  cases,  of  which 
that  one  remaining  bottle  owned  by  Mr.  Wilmerding  came 
to  us,  and  was  opened  in  the  presence  of  our  little  family 
wedding  group,  and  drunk  in  small  libations  with  rever- 
ence and  gusto. 

A  son  of  Mr.  Edward  Bell,  also  of  old  New  York,  ere 
he  died,  sent  my  husband  a  courtly  note  with  Mr.  Gordon 
Bell's  "affectionate  regards"  and  his  own  "last  bottle  of 
rare  old  Archibald  Gracie  Madeira"  which  he  suggested 
should  be  kept  for  our  daughter's  wedding  celebration. 

Of  all  my  four  babies  my  fourth  lived  to  be  married, 
and  the  sacred  ceremony  presided  over  by  our  faithful 
friend  in  sorrow  and  in  joy — the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
Darlington — in  response  to  his  own  special  request  so 
soon  as  he  learned  of  her  engagement. 


238  Personal  Experiences 

The  fair  young  great-granddaughter  received  from  my 
hand  the  last  bottle  of  Archibald  Gracie  Madeira  within 
the  quiet  of  our  library  room.  She  filled  the  wine  glasses 
on  the  tray  and  lifted  each 'one  in  tuin,  handed  it  with  a 
grace  all  her  own,  first  to  me  and  her  fiance,  then  to  her 
Matron  of  Honor,  Mrs.  Harry  Flood,  and  to  her  brides- 
maids, our  house  guests.  The  liquid  amber  glistened  as 
with  pretty  thought  she  passed  her  bridegroom's  wrist 
within  her  own,  and  they  with  glass  in  hand  gazing  into 
each  other's  eyes  partook  of  the  ancestral  vintage  of 
the  seventeen  hundreds. 

Finally  arrayed  in  her  wedding  gown  and  point  lace 
(inherited  fiom  the  Temple  side  of  my  mother's  family 
and  loaned  by  her  beautiful  Aunt  Augusta  Temple  Schack 
Button),  my  child  sent  Mrs.  Harry  Flood  to  summon  me 
to  her  side. 

In  the  center  of  our  1527  Sixteenth  Street  drawing  room 
a  vision  of  loveliness  with  gentle  modesty  upon  her  face 
stood  before  me — and  a  tender  voice  spoke:  "I  sent  for 
you  mamma  to  say  'good-bye' ;  when  you  see  me  again  I 
will  no  longer  be  Edith  Gracie." 

These  words  rang  in  my  ears  as  a  sweetly  original 
thought,  and  I  tenderly  embraced  my  precious  child. 

Arriving  at  Washington's  most  beautiful  St.  Thomas 
Church,  my  pew,  the  first  on  the  left,  was  also  occupied  by 
fine  old  Admiral  J.  Edgar  Craig,  and  our  devoted  friend 
f$&$&&  Cassard,  who  persuaded  me  to  write  this^lKjok 
and  have  it  published.  He,  with  his  music-loving  sat 
there  with  head  bowed  listening  to  our  darling's  organ 
selections  of  Faust,  Aida's  triumphal  march,  and  all  the 
overtures  which  she  knew  had  been  played  at  her  parents' 
wedding,  were  being  played  to  a  full  church  assemblage 
of  friends,  who  awaited  the  signal  for  the  arirval  of  the 
bridal  cortege.  My  daughter  had  selected  the  same  service 


SIR  RODERICK  CAMERON.  OF  CLIFTON 
Who  Placed  His  Estate  at  Archibald's  Disposal  for 
Honeymoon,   April   22nd. 


LEY 

Six  Weeks' 


In   Life's    Journey  241 

that  her  mother  had  for  her  wedding  entrance  at  Calvary 
Church,  New  York.  The  scene  of  her  mother  (bereft 
of  her  own  father)  walking  up  alone,  and  the  pealing 
forth  of  our  Danish-Swedish  wedding  march  was  re- 
peated. The  ushers — Rev.  Harry  Darlington  and  Hanm^s 
Taylor,  Jr.,  Lieuts.  Jack  Tunstall  and  Louis  Slade,  Lin- 
dell  Bates  and  Mr.  Smythe — were  followed  by  brides- 
maids Adrienne  Isslin  and  Mary  Millett,  Marie  Louise 
Peckham^Blodgett,  Catherine  Culver  and  Katherine 
Peterson. 

Last  came  the  tall  fair  bride! 

Arrayed  in  my  own  white  brocaded  Worth  wedding 
gown,  she  glided  up  the  aisle  like  a  swan,  as  Mrs.  General 
Barnett  described  it,  with  a  tremulous  smile  on  her  lips, 
as,  up  at  the  altar  she  noted  Bishop  Darlington  beside 
her  childhqcls'pastor,  Rector  of  St.  Thomas'  Church,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  C.  Ernest  Smith,  smiling  encouragement  to  her 
and  her  young  awaiting  husband,  who  with  his  best  man, 
Mr. ,  appeared  at  the  altar  steps. 

Down  he  dashed  to  her  side,  and  taking  her  lily-white 
hand  led  her  before  the  Bishop. 

"Who  giveth  this  woman  in  marriage?" 

Again  was  the  scene  of  long  ago  repeated.  I  stepped 
forward  and  placed  her  hand  in  that  of  the  groom,  just 
as  my  own  loved  mother  had  given  my  hand  to  Archibald 
Gracie  IV. 

"I  now  pronounce  you  man  and  wife,"  was  climaxed  by 
the  groom  suddenly  encircling  the  bride  with  his  arm  and 
implanting  a  whole-souled  kiss  upon  her  truly  perfect 
"cupid-bow"  mouth. 

The  organ's  exultant  tones  pealed  forth,  as  down  the 
aisle  came  the  beaming  couple,  a  love-glance  at  me,  her 
throbbing-hearted  mother. 


242  Personal  Experiences 

"There's  Aunt  Cassie,"  (Mrs.  JulinnJfctmes)  whispered 
the  bride  to  Dunbar  Adams  her  husband — and  "Aunt 
Cassie's  smilingly  nodded  her  greeting,  for  she  loved  them 
both. 

All  down  their  path  fond  eyes  spoke  to  theirs  until 
their  exit. 

That  was  a  famous  reception  at  Rauscher's.  Harris 
&  Ewing's  artist  photographer  had  placed  his  apparatus 
distant  from  the  dais  upon  which  they  were  to  stand 
after  the  ceremony  and  as  they  placed  themselves  upon 
it  and  the  groom  gazed  earnestly  upon  her,  she  modestly 
drooped  her  head  and  snap  went  the  camera. 

A  marvelous  picture  was  produced  on  the  instant.  A 
very  large  sized  one  rests  in  front  of  my  drawing  room 
folding  doors. 

After  all  guests  had  been  received  and  welcomed  by 
myself  at  Rauscher's  reception  room  and  at  the  bridal 
dais,  the  wondrously  handsome  pair  stepped  into  the 
ballroom.  As  he  led  her  to  the  top  in  front  of  the  stage 
of  musicians,  the  waltz  music  rang  out.  All  dancers  sud- 
denly cleared  the  floor,  and  gathering  across  her  arm  the 
court  train  of  her  gown — a  princess — she  appeared,  of 
lovely  grace,  with  whom  her  proud  husband  danced  down 
the  length  of  the  floor  and  ceased  only  at  the  end  of  those 
entrancing  musical  strains. 

All  is  finally  over  and  they  have  flown  off. 


MRS.    EDITH    TEMPLE    GRACIE    ADAMS 
On   Her  Wedding  Day. 


In   Life's    Journey  245 

FOR  RELATIVES — IN  SWEDEN,  DENMARK,  PAU,  FRANCE, 
.  ENGLAND. 

A*.w  m«  V  n^rj  -n  <tt_ 
Her  title  BtuUia'ULlllide  Gravenhorst  Lovenstjerne, 

Helsingborg,  Skane,  Sweden. 
Le  Baron  et  Baroness  Waldemar  Ehrensvard, 

Helsingborg,  Skane,  Sweden. 
Le  Captain  et  Mdme.  Sturc  Brunnstrom, 

at  "Stuieholm  Station  Royale,"  Sweden. 

Mdme.  Le  Capitaine  Gustaf.^Gravenhdrst  Lovenst- 

i     $PtlHM¥*ibM»i2CL  ^ 

jerne,   au   som   de  Etataraoduuie   Graven- 
horst Lovenstjerne, 
Helsingborg,  Skane,  Sweden. 
Le  Capitain  et  Mdme.  Kaufman, 

Amager,  Amagsbro,  Danemark. 
Mdme.  Harriet  Holmblad. 
Lauritz  Holmblad. 
Mdme.  Andreas  Holmblad  et  famille, 

Kjobenhavn,  Danemark. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Paul  Henning  Fabbricius  au  soin  Mdme. 

Andreas  Holmblad, 
Kjobenhavn,  Danemark. 

Comte  et  Comtesse  Marius  de  Gallifet  au  soin  de, 
Capt.    et    Mdme.    George    de    Tuite,    Pau,    Basses 

Pyrenees,  France. 
Miss  Elizabeth  Steele, 
Gen.  and  Mrs.  Julian  Steele, 
Gen.  and  Mrs.  George  Steele, 
Col.  and  Mrs.  Chas  Steele. 

Care  of  Miss  Elizabeth  Steele,  70  Eaton  Square, 

London,  England. 


ERRATA 

Page  47,  line  1;  should  be  son,  not  son-in-law. 
Page  58,  line  28;  Euterpe  should  be  capitalized. 
Page  59,  line  1 ;  should  be  key-pattern,  not  key-picture. 
Page  59,  line  3;  should  be  barege,  not  barige. 
Page  65,  line  7;  should  be  Mme.  Don  Bern  Ard's,  not  Bernerd's. 
Page  69,  line  13;  should  be  corrected,  not  correctly. 
Page  72,  line  21 ;  should  be  my  dear  sister,  not  now  dead. 
Page  79,  line  15 ;  should  be  shatter  her  life,  not  my  life. 
Page  82,  line  15 ;  should  be  observed  by  all,  not  to  all. 
Page  98,  line  24;  should  be  Mile.,  not  Mme.  de  Liancourt. 
Page  98,  line  31 ;  should  be  the  Count,  not  court. 
Page  99,  Portrait  of  Mr.  Henry  May,  not  Mag. 
Page  101,  line  1 ;  should  be  hidden  in  the  wing,  not  ring. 
Page  102,  line  7:  should  be  Ogston,  not  Agston. 
Page  104,  line  10;  should  be  starting,  not  startling. 
Page  108,  line  21;  should  be  Balmacan,  not  Balmaean. 
Page  109,  Portrait  of  Constance  Elise,  not  Elsie. 
Page  114,  line  3;  should  be  statues,  not  statutes. 
Page  114,  line  8;  should  be  sculpture,  not  sculture. 
Page  115,  line  14;  should  be  stunning,  not  stuning. 
Page  119,  line  4;  should  be  Mme.  Charles,  not  Mr.  William. 
Page  130,  line  12;  should  be  he,  not  she. 
Page  130,  line  13;  should  be  Schack,  not  Shack. 
Page  151,  line  11;  should  be  medaillon,  not  midaillon. 
Page  167,  line  5 ;  should  be  tippling,  not  tipling. 
Page  167,  line  6;  should  be  it  was  a  very,  not  it  was  very. 
Page  178,  line  14;  should  be  guests  and  host,  not  guest. 
Page  184,  line  13;  should  be  sword  and  sash,  not  lash. 
Page  201,  line  10;  should  be  Nijni  Novgorod,  not  'rad. 
Page  202,  line  6;  should  be  Droske,  not  Draske. 
Page  202,  line  13;  should  be  Droskes,  not  Draskes. 
Page  203,  line  4;  should  be  from,  not  rom. 
Page  203,  line  7;  should  be  in  claw-shaped,  not  clan. 
Page  212,  line  18;  should  be  Porphory,  not  Porphony. 
Page  215,  line  2;  should  be  yaux,  not  e. 
Page  215,  line  11;  should  be  divorcee,  not  divorce. 
Page  223,  line  3;  should  be  dragged,  not  draged. 
Page  223,  line  6;  should  be  remaining,  not  remianing. 
Page  223,  line  8;  should  be  alarming,  not  alrming. 
Page  226,  line  20;  should  be  Kip,  not  Kep. 
Page  238,  line  27;  should  be  Reese  Cassard,  not  Bessie. 
Page  238,  line  28;  should  be  his  music-loving  soul  (soul  being 
omitted). 

Page  241,  line  5;  should  be  Harris,  not  Harries. 
Page  241,  line  9;  should  be  Helen  Blodgett,  1st  was  ommitted. 
Page  241,  line  16;  should  be  childhood's,  not  childhod. 
Page  242,  line  1;  should  be  Julian  James,  not  Julian  Jones. 


